Downside of Sleeping
by insightfuldamon
Summary: Elena has completely isolated herself from everything and pushes anyone who tries to get her to open up and feel away with a few cutting words. She is the shell of her real self. Someone enters her life with his own issues. Will he be the one to remind her what it's like to feel? Whether it be pain or love? (Delena Human AU)
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is probably the most personal story that I've ever written. It's something I needed to write, and it was one of the only times I sat down and words just sort of flowed through me and the outlining of this fic came quicker than anything else I've written for this fandom. Part of my inspiration was no-humanity Elena, except she's human. I tried to think of how a human Elena would function after tragedy kept hitting her, but she doesn't have the option to turn it all off. She's a more distant and raw version of herself, without the mask of everything being okay we see in the pilot episode. Damon comes along...and I wanted to see how they could grow and somehow mend each other like we saw on the show, especially in s2 and 3. This fic is a human au, told in third person, primarily from Elena's pov. I hope you enjoy chapter one of this fic. -Jackie-

Chapter 1

She sat down and looked at the group of miserable people, sitting on cheap fold out chairs arranged in the shape of a U. They all wore the same expression, which was actually void. A blank, displaced look. Lost. No one wanted to be there, and yet, they were. Nursing a cup of shitty coffee and avoiding eye contact with Mr. Griffin, a man in his mid-fifties, who always wore all denim, in mismatched shades of blue. Denim shirt, acid wash jeans, and a braided belt. He was nice in a grating way, because it always made Elena feel bad for never participating in group discussions, and she could do with less guilt in her life. Plus, he was genuine, which was annoying as hell.

Elena knew the ones in the group to look out for and avoid were the people who wanted to be there. Who thought that going to a meeting in an empty Sunday school room at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church, was a great way to spend a Wednesday evening. They liked to purge their grief every week. Same story. Their mom committed suicide when they were three and they couldn't get over it. Their cousin committed suicide because the family couldn't handle their coming out. Purge. Cry. Drink bad coffee, eat stale cookies, go home and press repeat the following week.

The meeting was about to start when a tall man with raven black hair walked in. He wore a leather jacket and when he took off his silver aviators, revealed the most tranquil blue eyes she'd ever seen. The color of a pool on a hot summer day. He sat across from her and didn't bother apologizing to Mr. Griffin for being late. Instead, he sat back with his arms folded across his chest, like he was the one waiting on us to start. The arrogance was staggering.

Not to be deterred, Mr. Griffin started the meeting with his usual speech about the importance of moving on and not letting blame keep us from naturally progressing in life. Then he asked for people to share. A girl with small brown eyes and her hair in a high ponytail stood up. She couldn't have been more than twenty-one. She was an immediate crier. Didn't even utter a word before the tears started to fall. She started to tell the story about her roommate of two months committing suicide. Her roommate was a bit of a recluse, didn't like going out and preferred to stay in and read with her cat, Muffin, on her lap. One day, she came home to find her roommate dead with a note in her pocket.

She wiped her nose, tears streaming down her face. "The note said for me to feed and take care of Muffin, and I don't even like cats."

Elena snorted. She couldn't help it. This girl's last note on earth was to make sure her annoying roommate took care of her cat. Even thinking about it caused her to burst into a fit of giggles. Morbid laughter. Everyone, including Mr. Griffin glared at her as she got up to excuse herself and get some air. She caught the guy that came in late's eye. He smirked. Maybe he thought the situation ridiculous too.

Elena didn't say anything during the entire meeting. Mr. Griffin did that thing where he waiting for a painstakingly long time for the last person to share, glaring at her the entire time, but she stayed resolute. So did the new guy, but no one really expects the new guy to say anything. Mr. Griffin will start giving him the glare in a couple of weeks.

She put her purse over her shoulder and made her way toward the cookie tray before she left. They may be stale, but they were free and she had a late shift at the diner to get to. Stale cookies and coffee with sugary creamer would have to be dinner.

"Shame on you," a voice said, just as she popped a cookie in her mouth. She spun around and saw the guy that walked in late, wearing a smirk that she was sure dropped panties across the country. She wasn't so easily fooled.

"I wasn't the one that walked in late," she retorted.

"The meeting hadn't started yet, so I wasn't technically late."

She shrugged and left to grab another cookie and refill her coffee.

"So what's your story?" he said, catching up to her as she left the church, coffee in hand.

"I have work, that's my story," she replied, picking up her pace.

He wasn't to be deterred. He chased her down the sidewalk until he was in step with her. "You don't seem like you want to be there."

"Not want to be at a victims of suicide support group? I wonder why?"

"Where do you work?" he asked. Pressing. This guy would not give up.

Elena stopped and turned towards the man, not caring who'd heard what she had to say. "Look, I'm there because the court ordered me to go. I got drunk and drove into a McDonalds drive through at 3 in the morning. Ran right into the sign that posts the menu. It was either this or AA and I sincerely wish I chose AA. Addicts would be more tolerable than miserable people who can't move on with their lives."

His eyes widened. "You're the McDonalds girl?"

Damn the evening news and the kid in the car behind her who posted the entire accident on youtube. She rolled her eyes and continued to walk towards her work while he followed. She pulled her long brown hair in a ponytail and unbuttoned her navy peacoat as she walked. She was already late to work and didn't want to hear about how she was slacking off on the job from Danny, the owner's son who was trying to make a name for himself by exerting power over the wait staff.

The guy from group continued to follow, pestering her with questions that she continued to ignore. Usually, her attitude rubbed people the wrong way, but he didn't seem bothered by her obvious brush-off. Maybe he thought she was lying about work, so could follow her home and catch her in some obvious lie, but that couldn't be it, because he saw her take off her jacket to reveal the most cliche powdered blue uniform waitress uniform, complete with a white peter pan collar and ruffled apron. Surely he'd leave once she started her shift, so she'd just have to deal with his annoying presence for another couple of minutes and then he'd go.

He stopped talking. Elena walked into the diner and turned around. He was gone. She sighed, unsure if she hoped he'd at least annoy her to the front door of the Cable Diner. She doubted whether or not he'd ever go to group again. There were plenty of people that came for one session and then left. She wished she had that freedom, but she had to continue to go for another six months and then she could tell Mr. Griffin and his denim ensembles to fuck off.

"You're late," Danny said, as she walked around the counter to get her ticket pad. "I don't know why you're always late. You don't have a boyfriend, you're not in school, and you don't have a kid to take care of."

She shrugged. "Sorry, Danny."

He gave an irritated sigh. "You're taking over Sandy's section. You need to take table 5's order, and table 4's food is almost up."

She nodded, tucking a pen and pad in her pocket, so she could grab a pitcher of water and walked over to the table.

"Hey, Elena," said a guy in a John Deer hat, wearing coveralls.

"Hey, Bob," she tried to smile. "The usual today?"

He looked over his menu. He always did this. Every night he came into the diner, sat in the same booth and ordered the same thing, but insisted on looking at the menu, forcing her to patiently wait while he made up his mind. She was willing to bet that he'd never deter from his usual of steak and eggs over easy with a cup of coffee and cherry pie.

"I'll get," he paused, flipping the menu back over. "The steak and eggs over easy with a cup of coffee and cherry pie."

"Good choice, Bob," she said, taking his menu and filling up his water.

She walked behind the counter and placed the ticket on the turn style.

"Bob?" Reggie said, from the kitchen.

She nodded at the cook. "You have table 4's food ready?"

"Yup," he pushed plates forward from the kitchen end of the little window that divided the kitchen with the diner. Elena expertly put the four plates of pancakes and omelets on her arm and walked over to the table.

After Elena ran the order and refilled drinks, Danny got her attention and motioned her to go to him.

His pale face was flushed with anger. He stood in his pleated khakis and a white polo shirt, drumming his fingers on the counter, waiting for Elena to put down her water pitcher and walk to him. "Table 4 complained about your attitude."

She had gotten them their food and refilled all their drinks. What could they possibly complain about? "What did they say?"

"You slammed down their plates and got ketchup on the man's shirt," he explained.

She scoffed. "I hardly think he noticed considering he just came off of a shift at a disposal company."

"You don't smile," Danny said. "You're short with the customers."

"I smile," she replied, a little too defensively.

He shook his head. "I was willing to keep you on staff because you're willing to work the overnight shift, but I can't have you on staff if you're going to be surly with customers."

She panicked. She needed this job, especially since the hours saved her sanity. "I'll apologize to table 4 and offer them each a slice of pie on me."

He nodded approvingly. "That's the kind of attitude I like."

She tried really hard not to roll her eyes and excused herself so she could take care of the table.

The rest of her shift went as smoothly as can be expected. Elena just tried to stay busy and out of Danny's way and was grateful when he left at midnight to go home.

When her shift was over, she put her pea coat back on and made her way home in the early morning hours. The sun was barely coming up over the horizon as she walked up Russian Hill and past the famous Lombard Street until she hit her condo, an old blue victorian mansion turned into a living complex. She lived on the third floor, had a reading alcove that looked out over the city, hardwood floors and a renovated kitchen with Grecian tiles. Most importantly, she had a large claw footed tub she could boil alive in on a nightly basis.

Her life was arranged in small moments linked with other small moments to get her through the day. Meaningless routines to keep her from thinking. A walk to Union Square on the weekends, with a book in hand. Coffee from a little Parisian cafe while she watched people walk by, her leather bound notebook open, pen in hand. When people started saying hi or referring to her by name, she switched things up. Found a new place to walk to, a new cafe, a new farmer's market to peruse. Compartmentalizing her past, pushing it back into the recesses of her mind in an effort to stay alive.

She opened her apartment door, placed her keys in a bowl beside her door and hung up her jacket. She walked to the bathroom and turned the faucet on her bathtub to a scalding hot temperature and then added some lavender oil and rose petal salts. While the water was filling up, she walked to the kitchen and made a cup of tea. Even after a night shift, she wasn't tired. She was never tired. Her mind a constant rip current of information. Thoughts. Dark bottomless thoughts that begged to pull her under.

Elena's phone rang while she was waiting for the kettle to boil. She looked at the caller id. Jenna. If she hadn't already avoided her previous five calls, she would've pretended like she'd never heard her phone ring. Instead, she picked up her phone and accepted the call.

"Hi Jenna," she said, pouring the water from the kettle into a large black mug.

"Elena," she said, sounding relieved. "You had me worried."

She felt a twinge of guilt but pushed it aside. "What's up?"

" _What's up_?" Jenna sighed. "Elena, you can't do that!"

She bit her lip, wishing she hadn't picked up her phone. "I…ummm…"

"I'm worried about you. You don't return my calls or emails. I haven't heard from you in over a month. You can't do this, Elena. You can't shut me out."

Tears started welling up in her eyes. No, she couldn't cry. She couldn't allow herself to give in. She took a deep breath and swallowed back tears. "I've been busy with work."

"At the diner? You don't even have to work. You have plenty of money to go to school and figure out the rest of your life. Hell, Elena, you could easily get an internship anywhere you wanted and work your way up. You have that freedom. That's what you should be doing, not wasting your life waiting tables at a diner," she said. It sounded as though her Aunt Jenna had been saving this lecture for the right moment.

She took a sip of the tea and tried to restrain the sad anger coming to the surface. "I'm fine. I like my job."

Jenna let out an irritated breath. "You are not fine. You are isolating yourself from any human contact. You are slowly dying, Elena and I can't bare to watch it happen."

Elena could hear Jenna's sobs over the phone. She couldn't do this. She couldn't allow herself to picture Jenna standing in her pale cream-yellow kitchen in her cottage in Virginia Beach, with her husband Alaric nursing a beer while watching the game. The normality was painful and something she knew she'd never deserve.

"I'm going to a victim of suicide support group every week," she offered.

Jenna let out a croaked skeptical laugh. "The court is making you go and I doubt you're participating."

Jenna _did_ know her better than anyone. "Look, Jenna. I just got off a shift…"

"Elena, don't do this. I love you. You won writing contests in high school, even traveled to D.C. to pick up an award at a banquet. You used to cycle professionally and could've gone to the Tour de France if you'd have kept it up. You have the biggest heart and were more worried about the weak, unable to stay afloat in this horribly cruel world than yourself," she paused and Elena could hear her crying. "I love you. I love you. I love you," she said it over and over, hoping it'd sink into Elena's head. Hoping Elena would magically be Elena again. "You have always been in my heart. You have so much to contribute to this world, a whole bright future ahead of you. Don't let yourself get sucked in this darkness."

Elena hung up and threw her phone across the room, which luckily landed on the sofa. She closed her eyes, batting away tears. Sucking back emotion. Her hands were clenched so tightly in fists, her nails drew blood. She looked at the blood pooling in the palm of her hand. Sliding down one of the lines on her hand until it dripped down her wrist. She felt nothing as she wiped away the blood until the bleeding stopped, standing in her kitchen, wishing she were back at work with Danny yelling at her.

Abandoning her coffee, Elena went to the bathroom and stripped. She slid into the boiling tub, hoping to numb her mind when she heard loud thumping. Constant loud thumping. A low base drumming through her walls. Thump. Thump. Thump. She could've been in a club, one she might have visited before everything. Did someone new move in? Maybe the noise would go away…but it didn't. She tried just going with it, making it a part of her bathing experience, but the more she thought about it, the angrier she got. How dare this person play their music so loudly, this early in the morning? The beat had to be bleeding through the flooring, annoying the couple that lived there. Was it a couple or a lawyer…she couldn't remember. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Was this person actually lifting weights? Did she actually hear the sound of dumbbells hitting the floor? Who was this person? Not being able to stand the noise any longer, she got out of the tub, threw on a plush black robe and made her way next door, not caring that she was dripping wet or that her mascara was probably dripping down her cheeks.

She stomped to the front door of the apartment next to hers and banged on the door. When the person that lived there didn't answer, she used two fists to obnoxiously bang on the door. Then she started yelling. "Open the fuck up!"

After what seemed like ten minutes of exhausted banging, the door opened. She jumped back in surprise and yelped. Standing before her was the same cool blue eyes that followed her to work the previous evening, except he was shirtless, wearing low-slung navy gym shorts. She tried not to look at his sweat slicked chest and defined abs, complete with the mythical V that only seemed to appear on actors paid to pretend to be superheroes or ripped soccer players. She diverted her attention to his face and looked into his cool blue eyes. "You live here?" she yelled.

He smirked, making his face look alight with a devilish glow. "I've lived here for three months."

He had? She didn't even notice.

Elena placed her hands on her hips. "And you chose now to start playing music loud enough to conjure a line outside your apartment door of eager college girls expecting to be admitted to some porno club?" she yelled.

His smile grew, showing off a dimple on his cheek. Her stomach fluttered and she suddenly became aware of the fact that she was only wearing a robe and he had a perfect view of the crest of her breasts. She self-consciously closed her robe tighter.

"Porno club?" he laughed. He had a nice laugh that reverberated through her making her skin tingle.

"Whatever. Can you just turn down the music? I just got home from work," she pleaded.

He folded his arms and shook his head. "No."

Elena scoffed. "No?"

He shrugged. "I own the condo and I have every right to play my music as loud as I want. No one else is complaining."

Her eyes narrowed. She didn't care if she was standing in the middle of the hallway, she was going to kick his ass, maybe not physically, but she could verbally spar like a pro. "You self-absorbed asshat," she yelled, pointing her finger, while her other hand rested on her hip. "You think I don't know what's going on? You followed me last night after group to my work and I bet you followed me there. There's no way this is all a coincidence. What kind of person stalks someone to a victim of suicide support group? I hope the bad coffee was worth it."

His eyes darkened. "You are so very wrong."

"Turn down your fucking music!" She cried in exasperation.

"No," he replied, slamming the door in her face.

Elena stormed back to her apartment, fuming. Anger flowed through her veins. There was no possible way she was going to get any sleep, which wouldn't be out of the realm of her normal. She went into her room and changed into a black camisole and pinstriped boxers. The music had stopped. Maybe he did get the hint. Suddenly, there was a banging at the door. She knew exactly who was at the door and relished at the idea of being on the other end of a slammed door.

She opened the door, blocking his entrance. She was no match for him, he bypassed her, walking directly into her kitchen and slammed the door behind him. He'd put on a fresh cotton gray shirt and somehow smelled amazingly male. Sweat mixed with laundry soap.

"You can't just walk into my apartment!" She yelled.

He ignored her and started cleaning up her mess. Washing out her mug and putting it back exactly where it's supposed to go, putting the honey back in her cabinet and wiping down the counters. She stood there, completely mesmerized by his meticulous cleaning and in shock. Maybe he was so angry, this was his way of calming down. If so, he was welcome to abuse her apartment for such an instance any time he wanted.

"Why are you cleaning?" she muttered, unsure if he'd answer.

He spun around and placed his hands on the counter as if he needed to steady himself. He was angry. It radiated in an invisible waft. She was sure her downstairs neighbors could feel it. "If you'd have listened to anything I said last night when I walked with you to the Cable Diner, you'd have known that I live next to you, that my name is Damon Salvatore and I've seen you enter your apartment and the building several times. You seemed…" he paused, trailing off. Less angry. "Interesting."

"However, I was surprised to see you at the victims of suicide support group, which is why I decided to talk to you, not that you'd have noticed."

She didn't believe him. "So you're saying that we just happen to be neighbors and happen to go to the same support group?"

"Small world," he replied, sardonically.

"You can leave now," she said, pointing to the door.

He gave her an incredulous look. "You don't believe me?"

She shook her head. "Not for a second."

"You are the most stubborn woman I've ever met, and I don't even know your name!" he yelled, unmoved. Not ready to give up.

Elena smirked. "You bring it out of me."

He growled, but instead of leaving in a fury and turning his music back on, he turned around and proceeded to organize her cupboard, moving her glasses from one shelf to another, so she could find her wine glasses and champagne flutes easier and using a clean cloth, wipes down the cabinets. She didn't know what to do. For one, she was mesmerized by his ability to organize her shelves and part of her hoped he'd move to the junk drawer that really needed organizing. But she also didn't know why he was still here. Did he expect her to tell him her tragic life and fall to the floor, overcome with sorrow and tears? Because that would never happen.

Before she could tell him to go, again, he opened her fridge, and then shut it because it was a fucking disaster containing condiments, cheese, half drunk wine, champagne and probably some old fruit. He took a deep breath and opened it again, pulling out a container of orange juice she forgot she purchased the previous day. It was supposed to go with the champagne.

Damon poured himself a glass, downed it in one gulp and took a deep breath. "I got married young," he said, leaning against the refrigerator, his arms folded, a look of inexplicable pain in his eyes. She didn't want to hear this but remained immobile as he spoke. "We had a little boy, Daniel," he says.

Had.

Had.

Elena closed her eyes as he continued. Pushing back something, everything, instead concentrating on the fact that she still had to go to the farmer's market and get her coffee at the little bistro around the corner.

"I was out of town on business. I was gone too much, trying to provide the lifestyle I wanted the family I loved…. _love_ ….so much to have. We had just moved into a home in the Bay Area and I had to fly to Los Angeles for a meeting. I was supposed to put up a protective fence around the pool, but I didn't have time, because I had to leave for the meeting. My wife was unpacking boxes in the kitchen…."

"Don't," Elena said in a hushed whisper. Why was he doing this to her? She knew what was coming and couldn't stop the tears coming down her face, no matter how hard she tried. "Please stop."

"Daniel wandered off and after realizing he wasn't playing with a building set on the floor in the kitchen like he was supposed to, she looked for him and found him face down, floating in the swimming pool I was supposed to have protected him from."

Damon wasn't crying, he was staring at the floor, his voice like a detached version of himself and it only then occurred to Elena, that she was the first person he's told this story to. Maybe that was why he went to that group meeting, to say what he needed to say, what she couldn't do herself.

"My wife blamed herself, her family blamed me. She tried to move on, tried to be brave, we tried to make it work. I was so consumed in my own pain, I was blinded to hers. About a year after everything happened, I flew to New York for a meeting. I didn't want to go and even then, I knew that I shouldn't have gone. I called her every hour. I made her talk. I wanted her to cry because it was only then that I knew my wife was in there somewhere. I tried contacting her when my plane landed, but she didn't answer. I called our neighbor to go over and check on her, but she didn't answer the door. I told Frank to fucking break in and by the time he did, she was already gone. She'd been seeing a doctor without me knowing, and was prescribed sleeping pills and overdosed. I cradled her in my arms and prayed to God for the first time in my life that she'd wake up. She left a note. Some incoherent generic bullshit about how she couldn't live with herself. She spent the time I was gone arranging her affairs, planning the moment she'd completely fuck with my life by ending hers."

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. So lost. Elena used both of her shaking hands to wipe the tears streaming down her face. There was a deep untouched anger in his words. Unlike her, he was at that meeting last night actually looking for some sort of peace or closure.

"My name is Elena Gilbert," she said, softly. "Do you want to watch some TV?" she asked.

He looked up at her, gazing into her eyes. Searching and she knew he saw it, the same flicker of utter brokenness that he saw in himself and he nodded, following her to her living room, he sat in an armchair while she laid sprawled on the sofa, with her head resting on a pillow while Damon flipped through morning talk shows.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note- Thank you for all the kind reviews. When we met Elena in the last chapter, she wasn't in a good place. In this chapter, you'll see more of who she's become in response to what's happened to her. She's very much a darker version of herself and incredibly afraid to allow the hopeful Elena that loves with her whole heart to come out because that's the Elena that got hurt. I hope that you enjoy this chapter! -Jackie-

Chapter 2

When she woke up, there was a gray fuzzy blanket thrown over her and he was gone. The television was still on, as if he knew she'd need it to help her sleep. She looked at the clock, she must've been asleep for five solid hours. The most sleep she'd had in the last year and a half. Moreover, it was a dreamless sleep, not one with bruised necks and unrecognizable bloated bodies haunted her. And blood. So much blood that the pain that usually came with it had lost all meaning. To her, it was red scarlet water. True pain was an ache so deep inside your soul that you are unable to function.

She took a shower and dressed for work in her blue uniform and slipped on black converse sneakers. Her uniform had gotten too big and now hung on her like a potato sack, unless she tied the apron strings tight. Glancing in the mirror, she couldn't help but see the dark blue circles under her eyes and the sallowness of her skin. Her hair was longer than it had ever been and she tried the best that she could to pile her hair up in a bun on top of her head. She didn't bother putting on makeup, but put on moisturizer and smeared chapstick on her lips.

Putting on her peacoat and buttoning it up, she slung her bag over her shoulders and headed out, pausing at Damon's door, allowing herself to briefly wonder what he was up to or even if he was home. She was anxious like she had an itch that needed scratching. She needed a fix and before she went through another eight-hour shift, she needed that numbing sensation that came with meaningless adult distraction.

She didn't have work for another few hours, so she walked a couple of blocks until she found a bar that she'd yet to visit. It was a modern version of a bar from the 1960's. A brass and mahogany bar with high leather stools, the color of oxblood. Oxblood velvet chaise lounge chairs lined the bar and there was a dance floor full of people grinding up against each other to modern remakes of British pop. One step further would've been to have go-go dancers in cages, but apparently, this place was trying to be classy.

Elena walked up to the bar and finding an open stool ordered two shots of tequila and sat down. Her jacket was still buttoned up, but it draped over her dress, making her legs look long and lean. The converse sneakers weren't exactly bar appropriate, but she didn't care. They were comfortable, and she still had to walk to work and stand on her feet for hours at a time.

The young bartender, with the sleeves of his stark white shirt rolled up, slid her shots in front of her. She didn't smile in gratitude, but handed him cash, tipping him generously because she was a server and wasn't about to be a complete jackass.

She downed both of her shots in quick succession, enjoying the burn running down her throat and into her veins. Her skin started to tingle and her cheeks reddened. "Can I buy you a drink?"

She turned to her right to see a man in his early thirties looking at her like he wanted do more than buy her a drink. His eyes selfishly raked her, lingering on the short length of her dress. She considered taking off the jacket but was worried someone would give her their drink order.

"I'm disappointed," she said. "I thought I deserved a cheesy pick-up line at the very least. Instead, you had to go straight for the _Can I buy you a drink?_ routine."

His eyes lit up with humor. He had dimples. "I don't have any pickup lines, but I can offer you an extremely inappropriate joke about a nun, a sheriff, and a librarian."

She shook her head and hopped off the stool. "Not interested."

She walked off to the dance floor, knowing he'd follow her like she was prey. She lost herself in the music, not caring that she was pretty much dancing by herself. Preferring it that way. He came up behind her and she could feel him against her back. He was strong and gripped her waist, holding onto her hips as she leaned against him and they swayed together. His hands slowly worked their way in the folds of her jacket as he held her closer. He leaned in and lazily pressed his lips on her neck. She let her head fall against his chest, enjoying the momentary warmth. Not caring that he was slowly unbuttoning her jacket on the dance floor. When he saw what was underneath, he was unrestrained. His head dipped down as he licked the curve of her breast.

This is what she wanted. Unrestrained, animalistic behavior with someone she'd never have to look at again and didn't even have to look in the eye. Someone who wouldn't make her cry or feel or wrap a gray blanket around her when she falls asleep.

He took her hand and lead her away from the pulsating music to the back. Elena knew this route, it's why she chose this bar because they had single stall individual bathrooms. When they reached the door, he opened it and then slammed her against the wall while he locked the door. It didn't hurt, but it caused her blood to pump. She pulled a condom out of her purse, handed it to him, and tossed her jacket and purse onto the floor and then turned out the lights, so they only had the light coming from beneath the door to see.

"Needy little thing, aren't you," he muttered, capturing her mouth with his. His tongue snaked in her mouth as he greedily. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes. Elena released her mouth from his, deciding to stare into the void while he worked his way down her neck. He seemed to get the hint and wasn't put off by the brush off, after all, she was still a willing participant in the task of getting each other off.

She noticed the way the light coming in from beneath the door illuminated people's footsteps as they walked by, people here on a date or here with a group of friends. Laughing. Dancing. Flirting. Getting drunk enough that the memory of the evening has a floaty purple haze, not pieces missing and events of the evening coming back in a distorted jigsaw puzzle.

He moved her panties aside as he ground into her, thrusting her against the wall opposite the toilet and some aerosol room refresher. She moaned, feeling that tightening coil within her loosen. "Harder," she demanded, her breathing becoming labored and shallow.

He gripped her waist beneath her skirt and pounded into her. She gripped his shoulders. Staring. Staring. Staring over his shoulder into the dark gray shadows of the bathroom. Until he was done. He stepped away from her while he removed the condom, wrapped it in tissue and threw it away. She straightened out her dress and panties, washed her hands and cleaned herself up before putting her jacket back on.

"You're a great fuck," he commented, zipping up his pants. "Can I have your number? We should do this again."  
She slung her bag over her shoulder and quickly sprayed herself with the aerosol room refresher spray on the toilet so she wouldn't walk into work smelling like sex. "No," she said simply, opening the door to the bathroom and walking out to the street through the back exit. Knowing he wouldn't follow her.

She was tempted to go to another bar and see if she could pick someone else up, but she didn't have time. She knew that she should probably get coffee or something to help perk herself up before she had to face Danny.

Elena looked at her phone. Jenna had called. Even after Elena hung up on her, she still tried to call, tried to communicate. Elena stuffed her phone back in her purse and went to Starbucks to buy a quadruple shot latte and maybe a protein bar.

Work was the same routine. Danny got mad at her because she told a group of teenage girls that they didn't have gluten-free pancakes and sugar-free maple syrup. She didn't know what Danny expected her to say, they didn't have any of those items. Danny explained that it was the fact that Elena said, " _There's no such thing as calorie free pancakes, even if you take the gluten out, the calories don't magically disappear."_

She told Danny that she'd treat them all to a slice of gluten-filled cake, which they accepted and the act seemed to appease Danny. So, another chunk of her paycheck gone because a table was unhappy. Not to mention, they didn't exactly tip her. Bob usually took pity on her and gave her a nice tip. Maybe he knew that she hated standing by his table like and idiot while he contemplated what to order. Maybe somewhere, deep down, he knew that he'd get the same thing every time. Hoping he'd change, but when it came down to it, he knew he couldn't. Still, she relied on his generosity, so when tips were counted at the end of the shift with the other servers, she didn't look like a complete bitch.

After Elena walk home, she entered her apartment and started her bath, adding her usual combination of bath oil and salts. When she got into the tub, she noticed the lack of noise she had to deal with the previous day. She was grateful. She didn't want to deal with Damon again. She'd be perfectly okay with avoiding him until the day either of them moved. They'd been successful at avoiding each other since he moved in, and she doubted he'd go back to group. Elena successfully burned off someone else, in an effort not to deal with getting to know someone else. Someone she might get attached to. Someone she might start relying on. The thought scared her to the point of retreating behind the wall she so carefully built.

When she was fully pruned, she got out of the bath and put on a pair of gray-purple sleep shorts and a long sleeved black shirt. She was running a brush through her long hair when there was a knock at her door. Her gut told her who it was, so she chose to ignore it, even letting it continue while she made herself a cup of tea and walked back to her bedroom to lay in bed and read.

Suddenly, it stopped. She sighed, relieved he gave up and continued reading until she heard noise coming from her kitchen. She reached under her bed and grabbed a baseball bat, kept for such instances, and crept to the kitchen with her bat up like she was standing on home plate and ready. She heard drawers opening, pans being taken out and eggs being cracked. What the hell?

Bat still up, she walked into the kitchen to see Damon in a deep red henley with the sleeves pushed up, stirring something in a bowl. He glanced up, not even put off by the fact that Elena still had her bat raised. "Ready for breakfast, slugger?" he asked.

She kept the bat raised. "Get out of my apartment!" she yelled.

He shook his head, smiling like she just told him a funny joke. "Nah, I don't think I will."

"If you think I won't pretend your head is a baseball, you're sorely mistaken," she said, poised and ready to swing.

He ladled something on a sizzling pan. Whatever it was, smelled divine, like burnt butter. "If you were going to hit me, you would've done it already, and we wouldn't be standing here talking about it." He grabbed a spatula and stood by the pan. "Be a doll and open up the orange juice," he added, pointing to the grocery bag sitting on her kitchen island.

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't call me doll."

He sighed. "Fine, be a sweetheart and open up the juice. I just got done working out and I'm dying of thirst."

She lowered her bat. "You're not going to leave, are you?"  
"I went to the farmer's market yesterday and got orange juice, and fresh fruit. Thought you could use a good breakfast when you got back from work," he said.

She was hungry. She leaned the bat against the wall and walked to the kitchen counter to open up the orange juice, pouring two glasses. "You _do_ realize I work at a diner and serve pancakes every day, right?"

He shrugged, flipping a pancake. "Who hates pancakes? I happen to have an amazing recipe that I've perfected over the years."

Her apartment wasn't huge. The kitchen was open to the living room and the entryway. She glanced at the door. There was no visible damage. "How did you get in?"

"I have my ways," he replied.

"Your ways aren't legal. I could have you arrested," she said, taking a sip of the orange juice. It was refreshing. Dammit.

"But you're not going to," he stated.

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Because you like me," he replied.

Elena scoffed, almost dropping her glass. Seriously, he was that arrogant. "And what gave you that impression? Did you not take my lack of answering the door, knowing it was you, as a hint?"

He plated up the pancakes that were ready and added maple syrup he had warming on the stove to a little glass dish I'd never seen before. "No, it's the fact that you didn't whack me with the bat the moment you walked in the kitchen."

Damon slid the plate to Elena. They were in the shape of Mickey Mouse. She stifled a grin and took a bite. Damn him, they were amazing. Instead of telling him so, she took her glass of orange juice and the plate of pancakes to the living room and turned on the television while she continued to eat. After a few minutes, Damon joined her. They silently watched reruns of _Friends_ while they ate. When she was done, she placed her plate on the coffee table and laid down sideways, with a pillow tucked beneath her.

She must've drifted off to sleep because when she woke up, she was in her bed with the soft gray duvet pulled over her. She didn't want to think about the fact that he carried her to bed or that he saw her messy room. Elena padded to the kitchen to pour herself a glass or water. He cleaned. Of course, he cleaned, but it was cleaner than when he arrived. The floor was spotless. Did he mop? She must've been out cold for him to be this detailed in his ability to clean and when she walked into her living room, she swore that he fluffed her pillows and fucking vacuumed. She couldn't even remember if she owned a vacuum.

She slept harder than she had the day before because she had to rush to get ready for work and knew she wouldn't have time to stop by a bar and pick someone up and she really really wanted that momentary bit of distraction combined with anonymous intimacy. She decided to skip her shower, pulling her hair up in a ponytail and threw on a clean uniform and her sneakers. She buttoned up her pea coat and slung her purse over her shoulder and headed out, avoided looking at Damon's door.

She chose a bar closer to work, one she'd only been to once before. It was a little shadier than the one she previously visited, but she'd be in and out. This one didn't have a dance floor, instead was more of a bar where appetizers like chicken wings could be ordered. She ordered a couple shots of vodka and downed them. A large brawny gentleman sat down next to her. She glanced at him. He had tan skin, ripped arms and blond hair she could run her fingers through. Plus, he didn't smell like smoke. He wasn't talking to her or even gazing in her direction.

She knew she couldn't just sit there and wait, so she ordered a vodka tonic and started unbuttoning her jacket. Maybe the short blue uniform would work in her favor. Once it was off, she placed it on the hook beneath the bar counter. Elena played with her long ponytail, while she nursed her drink. The guy turned to her, finally. He gave her a once over, making her skin tingle. She hated that she liked this moment.

"You are trouble," he drawled.

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Trouble?"

He smirked. It was a nice smirk, one that matched his light green eyes. "Oh yes, those big brown eyes and long legs. My heart might be in trouble."

Elena purposefully looked at the crotch of his jeans and continued to allow her eyes to linger there. "I think another part of your body is in more trouble than your heart."

She downed the rest of her drink, left money on the counter and walked towards the bathroom, knowing he'd follow. She felt him behind her as she walked to the bathroom, he grabbed her hand and opened the door. When he locked it, she tossed her purse to the floor and he embraced her, pinning her to the wall and kissing her. He flipped her around so she was facing the tiled wall, ripping the top of her blouse he cupped her breasts, massaging them and plucking at her nipples while she sighed and moaned with heavy breaths. She placed her hands on the wall for support.

"So bad," he said into her ear, nipping her earlobe. "Trouble."

She cried out when she felt him enter her, as he slammed her against the tiled wall and ground into her, with one calloused hand still on her breast, now roughly massaging. "God," she cried, tears threatening to fall.

"Yes," he grunted, kissing her neck.

She tried to place her hands back on the wall for support as he continued his attack on her neck, now sucking and biting her skin. She cried out, sure someone could hear them as he continued to thrust into her, the tightness in her low belly beginning to uncoil, she felt his release, filling her. He collapsed onto her, lightly laying kisses where he previously assaulted her skin. She sighed, feeling colder than she had when she walked into the bar.

He pulled out of her when she noticed something. "You didn't use a condom?" she asked.

He laughed and shook his head, pulling his pants back on. "Girl like you is on the pill."

She shook her head. "I'm not. I had a condom in my purse if you didn't have one, you should've asked."

"Not my problem," he replied, zipping up his pants and leaving her half-naked and alone in the darkness of the bathroom.

Ignoring the knock of someone who wanted to enter the bathroom, she turned on the light and assessed the damage in the mirror. The first two buttons of her dress were gone and there was a very visible hickey and bite-mark on her neck. Her hair was a mess and the aggressive cowboy tore her panties. Elena couldn't help but think she deserved it. This is what she got because he was right, she was _that_ kind of girl.

She found safety pins in her purse and pinned her dress and used her compact to cover up the marks. She quickly redid her hair, twisting it into a bun. Her face was still flushed, her lips swollen, and she thought that she saw a bruise forming from when she was slammed into the tile wall. Shit. Danny was going to yell at her, for sure. She grabbed her purse, with he sudden realization that she left her jacket at the bar. Double shit. There was no way she could go back, and she doubted that it would be there, but she had to check.

She left the bathroom, ignoring the comments from the people waiting in line, that came with being in there for twenty minutes. With all the stubborn confidence she could muster, she walked back up to the bar and searched for her coat. "Give me your number and I'll give you your jacket back."

Elena turned around and looked up to see the jackass that fucked her. He held her jacket, taunting her in front of the whole bar. People stared. Stopped throwing darts at the dartboard and playing pool to watch what was about to happen. She knew what people were already thinking and she didn't care. "Give me my jacket _and_ cash for the Plan B pill that I'm going to have to buy, and I won't tell everyone that your dick is about as small as your IQ score."

People laughed, the cowboy didn't look as amused. She didn't care, she decided to abandon her jacket and leave. She'd get a new one the next day. Elena was worried he'd follow her, so she ran and took a sharp turn on another street until she reached a pharmacy that was still open. She had thirty minutes to get to work, which would be cutting it close.

While Elena was standing in line at the pharmacy, she decided to stop going to bars for a little while, at least until she got checked out. But she couldn't deny the thrill she got from walking so close to the edge. Even when she knew he wrecked her clothes, and when she realized her jacket was gone, her heart was still racing from almost walking off the cliff. Dancing on the edge. Maybe she'd wait and see how she felt.

She was ten minutes late to work, but the first thing Danny noticed was her uniform. His eyes lingered on the large gap of fabric between her breasts. "What happened to your uniform?"

She placed her purse on her shelf in the waitress' station and turned to him. "The cheap buttons from your cheap uniform manufacturer popped off on my way here."

Sandy walked in, ready to get off her shift. She had bright curly red hair pulled into a ponytail and kind eyes. Elena generally tried to avoid her. "Lay off of her, Danny. You're always so hard on Elena. I'll help her fix it, so it looks more normal."

Elena frowned. "I don't need your help, Sandy. I'll fix it, Danny."

"You're already late," he stated.

Sandy shook her head. "I'll cover for her." Before Elena could protest, Sandy left.

"Elena," Danny said. "This is your last chance."

He said that all the time. "I get it," she replied.

Once he left, she took out a few more safety pins to add to the top and retied her apron. She was lucky the uniform was already big on her, so it wasn't hard to cover up the lack of buttons.

The rest of her shift went smoothly, thankfully. Danny didn't even yell at her or threaten to fire her again. Maybe some of what Sandy said got to him. Though, Elena doubted it. She thought that it had more to do with the fact that Elena said she'd work through the weekend, time she usually had off. She tried working a seven-day week when she could.

On her way home, she put earbuds on and listened to _Houses on A Quiet Darkness_ , a band she had recently started listening to. It was still dark out as she walked the path to her apartment. She could see the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance, illuminated in the early morning hours. She and her dad used to bike across the bridge and walk around Sausalito, window shopping on Sunday mornings. She swallowed back tears. No. She couldn't think about this. She thought about moving but still, couldn't bring herself to leave. Even with all the memories.

When she got to her apartment, earlier than usual, she crashed. Memories of biking, old fashioned candy shops, and laughter haunted her. She felt it happening. A crack in her wall brought down by tears for the lost Sundays.

She woke up to noise in her kitchen. She needed to hate him. She walked into the kitchen, ready to kick Damon out. She saw him at her stove, cooking eggs and bacon, wearing gym shorts and a red t-shirt. His hair damp from a shower. The whole scene before her was too much. "You need to go!" she yelled.

He turned around and smirked at her. "I don't think I will."

"I don't want you here. I was perfectly capable of making my own breakfast before you came by," she yelled. She was really angry.

"What happened to your neck?" he asked, sincere concern in his voice. She was still wearing her uniform.

"Leave, Damon!" she yelled. "I'll seriously call the cops."

He was still looking at her neck and sighed. He turned off the stove and left. She didn't know why, but his sudden absence caused her to burst in tears. God, she was a mess. Crying way too much and it all lead back to Damon and his damn presence in her life. But now he was gone and she wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. The thought made her cry even harder. Moments later, Damon was back, carrying a first aid kit. "I told you to go!" she shouted, trying to cover up the onslaught of emotions.

"I did. I left to get a first aid kit and came back," he walked over to her and dragged her to the couch so he could look at her neck.

He wiped antiseptic on her wound and put some cream on it. Then he took out an ice pack that he must've brought from his freezer because there was no way she had one in hers, and placed it on her forehead. "It's already starting to bruise, but this will help the swelling come down."

She held it there while he went into the kitchen and made her a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. Damon laid a napkin across her lap and rested the plate there while he sat on the gray suede armchair with his own plate and turned on the television. When she was done with her breakfast, she put her plate on the coffee table next to the ice pack Damon gave her and laid down on the couch while Damon had seconds and flipped channels. She fell asleep while they were silently watching a home makeover show on HGTV.

Elena woke up in her bed, covered in her duvet. The apartment was empty but clean, something she noticed when she walked to the bathroom to take a shower. She decided to skip the bar scene that evening. At least until her bruise healed.

Over the next couple of weeks, Damon consistently came to her apartment to make her breakfast. After spending the first week telling him to leave and threatening to call the police, or bash his head in with a baseball bat, Elena gave up. Knowing she'd let him stay and there was a part of her that refused to acknowledge the fact that she didn't hate it when she heard him cooking.

He didn't push her. Even when they saw each other at the next two meetings for the family of the victims of suicide, they didn't sit next to each other and neither person shared when Mr. Griffin glared at them. After being at the meeting twice, Mr. Griffin started giving Damon the same look he gave Elena. The _you better fucking participate and share_ , look.

"You've worked every day for the past two weeks," Damon commented while dipping French bread in batter.

"What's the fucking point, Damon?" she asked, suddenly irritated. He didn't do this. this was why she allowed him to stay.

He shrugged, as usual not deterred by her snippy attitude. "Seems like you're avoiding is all."

"Since you're suddenly a world renowned psychologist, tell me, Damon, what am I avoiding?" She spat. She was not having this conversation. She needed to get her locks changed, something she'd been telling herself to do for the last two weeks.

He turned toward her, spatula in hand. Not angry, just studying her. She hated it. "Life," he said, simply.

"Out," she yelled. She hadn't tried to kick him out in a while, but she was serious this time. "Get the fuck out of my apartment!"

He shook his head, disappointed and placed a piece of soaked bread in the sizzling pan for French toast. Elena took a soaked piece of bread from the bowl and started throwing them at him. "Get out! Get out! Get out!" she screamed.

The pieces of batter soaked bread hit him on the chest and head, the other piece hit the wall behind him. He didn't turn to look at her, he was able to ignore the onslaught of items being thrown in his direction and instead watched the piece of toast in the pan.

It wasn't until Elena started chucking strawberries at his head, that he stopped. Damon didn't say anything. He didn't try to fight her or throw things back at her, he just left. This time, he didn't come back.

It was the first day in a while Elena didn't get any sleep, instead, she took a shower and left for work early so she could go to a bar before her shift.

Damon didn't come back to her apartment the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that. The guilt she felt for being rude was pushed aside as the wall she put up mended itself and was stronger than ever. She even convinced herself that she'd be glad if he never came back, but she found herself walking closer and closer to the edge. Since she wasn't sleeping, she was able to get to clubs and bars earlier, drinking more than she should. Going to work slightly drunk. Danny hadn't said anything, probably because Elena was a brave and happy drunk.

One night, she went back to the bar close to work. She didn't know why she did it but was drawn to the spot like a moth to a flame. She wore her hair down, planning on pulling it up before work and ordered a gin and tonic.

"It's coat girl," said a familiar drawl. "I knew you'd be back."

She turned around and smiled. This was why she came back. She was on the edge, ready to tip over. "Did you hang out here every night hoping I'd be waiting for you?"

His lips turned up. "You are trouble. I knew it when I first saw you."

"Would you rather I were easy?" she asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Oh, you're that too," he drawled.

"Not tonight," she said, finishing her drink, putting her purse over her shoulder and leaving.

She didn't go to the bathrooms, instead, she walked out of the bar. She could feel him behind her. She craved contact. Needed to feel something other than guilt and pain. She needed a different kind of pain. She made a sharp right into an alleyway between a new Italian restaurant and boutique. He grabbed her wrist and spun her to him, capturing her with his lips.

He walked her to the brick wall and leaned into her, pinning her up against the rough wall while he continued to bruise her lips with his, working his way down to her clavicle, his hands lifting her skirt up and ripping her panties. He paused briefly to spin her around so he could enter her from behind. Her ass was bare as he thrust into her and she could feel the fabric of his jeans against her as he continues to thrust, using his other hand to press her clit and support her as he continued to pound into her.

She didn't moan or cry out, her eyes were solely focused on the sidewalk, not far from where they were. She was cloaked in darkness as she watched normal people leaving the restaurant. Happy after eating a good meal. Laughing at a joke someone told. As she felt her cheek scrape against the wall, she felt tears come. He left her a few minutes later. No words are bits of sarcasm exchanged. No soft reassuring kisses. He zipped up and walked away. She'd have to go back to the pharmacy, the thought made her cry even harder.

After her shift at the diner, she went home and turned on her bath water. Her phone rang. She ignored it until she saw that it was Alaric. He never called her.

"Alaric?" she said, surprised.

"Elena," he said, relieved. But there was something else there. Something only she could recognize.

"What happened?" she said, knowing almost instinctively already.

"Jenna didn't want me to tell you," he said. He was crying. No. He couldn't cry. There was too much crying in her life. Alaric was supposed to be Jenna's rock. Rocks don't cry.

"Alaric, what happened?"

"She tried to call you, but you wouldn't pick up. She just wanted to see you, why didn't you pick up?" he demanded.

"Alaric, you're scaring me," she croaked.

"She's gone," he said.

"What? No! That's impossible. She can't be gone! What about little Meredith and Jack? She can't be gone, they need their mother, Alaric. Everyone needs their mother!" she yelled into the phone.

"It was liver cancer," he explained. "By the time they caught it, it had already spread to most of her major organs. They gave her five months, max."

"She knew when she called me a couple of weeks ago?"

Alaric didn't have to say it. She threw her phone at the wall, shattering it. Everything hurt. It was a raw pain that ripped her open. She should've known. If she wasn't such a fucking mess, Jenna might have told her. Jenna was gone. She was gone. She was completely alone. Elena screamed, a bone-chillingly loud scream and threw her bedside lamp at the wall. Then, she took the photo of her, Jenna and Jeremy and tossed it at the other wall. A picture of her mother and Jenna was tossed at another wall. She took the baseball bat that was underneath her bed and started smashing her vanity. Pieced of her mirror shattered all over the floor. She hit a bottle of perfume she bought when Jenna visited a year ago, sending it across the room and into the opposing wall. She smashed the white wicker vanity until it was in pieced on the floor.

She fell to the floor. She cried, tears flowing down her face, but she was so sick of crying. So sick of trying to live. She couldn't stand the thought of waking up and going to work…couldn't stand the thought of interacting with customers…could not stand the thought of having to think, because they would be there. Haunting her so she couldn't live. Following her wherever she went. A reminder of who she isn't. A reminder of the fact that she is so very alone. A reminder that she as destined to live this life in solitary confinement.

Elena saw a piece of glass from a frame she broke and didn't think about what she had to do next. She dragged it along the inside of her wrist, watching blood start to drip from her wound. She couldn't feel it. The pain that was supposed to come when skin is broken. She used the same piece to drag it along her other wrist. No pain. Just the hollowness of of her soul. Who was she kidding? Jenna was right, Elena _was_ dying.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Hi Everyone! Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to write a review. Elena's in a dark place and has been through a lot. She's come up with ways to cope that aren't healthy. When Alaric called, something in her snapped and she broke down. This story is more than being about Elena finding a reason to live, it's about the deep need for human connection. It's not about simply living, it's about what makes us alive. I hope you enjoy chapter three! -Jackie-

Chapter 3

She couldn't open her eyes, but she heard voices. Pieces of conversation between staccatos of beeps while she lay catatonic.

"Poor dear has no family to call," an elderly woman said. "All alone. Her neighbor brought her in."

A gasp emitted from a woman close by. "That was her neighbor?"

"There was a traffic accident blocking the ambulance from getting to the residence a few blocks away, so he carried her to the ambulance. Arrived covered in her blood. She would've been gone by the time the ambulance finally arrived."

Beep…..Beep…..Beep…..

"You're not allowed in here, sir," said a young man.

"Get security," he yelled. "Because the only way you're removing me from her side is by force."

"There are rules," the young man squeaked.

"Keeping me away from her isn't protecting her. I rode with her in the ambulance. Call Dr. Winters," he demanded.

She felt a warm hand grab the limp hand by her side and squeeze. Like it was trying to revive her.

Beep….Beep….Beep….

"How long is she going to be like this?" he demanded.

"There's no way to really know. She lost a lot of blood from the self-inflicted injury to her wrists, but sustained further injury after the vanity mirror fell on top of her head. The mirror had broken shards still attached to it, so when the wooden frame fell, there were small pieced imbedded in her skull. She was lucky. We were able to get the pieces out without surgery, but she suffered a grade 3 concussion and with the blood loss, there's no way of knowing how long she'll be out," he said.

There was a long sigh. "I should've waited for the ambulance instead of moving her," he paused. His voice rang with years of pent up emotion. "She was bleeding so much, I couldn't just leave here there and watch her die."

"You saved her life, Mr. Salvatore. Her chances of survival would've been significantly slimmer if you had waited for the paramedics to arrive. We don't know if the ambulance would've been able to get past that collision until it was cleared up an hour later. Minutes…seconds can change everything."

"My flight back was early," he said. "My bag was the first to come out of the luggage carousel. Traffic was clear coming back from the airport. I had just enough gas to make it back, but I almost stopped. I still don't know why I didn't stop because I like to have a full tank. I was going to go to the store, but I decided to wait."

"Scientists have been trying to explain precognition phenomena for years, but sometimes it's as simple as trusting your gut. There's no science behind fate, but it's hard to deny the fact that sometimes the inexplicable happens for a reason."

"I don't know if I believe in God, Doctor."

"You don't have to in order to believe in the miraculous."

Beep….Beep….Beep….

She heard footsteps. Clacking noises of heels. Squeaky tennis shoes. Two people. "She's wasting time and resources. She tried to kill herself. She shouldn't be allowed to use our doctors, medicine, blood, or time over other patients who are in need and want to live."

"Shh….Anna, someone will hear you," replies a huskier voice. "This is the girl?"

"Yes, he brought her in."

"Should just unplug her now," he replied.

"I can't risk losing my job, and the time isn't right. In the end, God will punish her."

Beep….Beep…Beep….

She felt someone beside her. The pressure of elbows on her bed.

"I can't do this," he said. There was a crack in his voice, it was foreign and distant. Tired. "There's already too much dark in my life. I don't know if I can be who you need me to be. Holding you when you were like that, was…."

Beep….Beep….Beep…

She could smell the sterile environment and feel rough cotton on her skin. Her tongue felt like sandpaper and felt glued to the back of her teeth. She wasn't sure if she had a voice. Her hands tested the waters, twitching to see if they still worked and moved like normal. She felt a tube in her hand and panicked, unaware of where she was. Here eyes flickered open and shifted uneasily around the room, adjusting to the light.

She had something in her nose. Tubes helping her breath. Tubes seemed to be sprouting from everywhere. She looked around, trying to find someone, anyone to explain what was going on, but no one was there. She was in a white and beige room by herself. No flowers were left on the counter. No cute stuffed animals holding hearts wishing her well. Nothing. But then, she didn't want anything. The first emotion she recognized as anger. She wasn't supposed to be here, she was supposed to die.

She looked at her wrists, but couldn't lift her hands up very far. They were heavily bandaged. Scars would forever remind her that she'd been abandoned. Jenna was gone. Her parents were gone. Her brother was gone. She was alone. The pain didn't go away, it sliced through her and left scars on her wrists.

Nurses came by. They performed test after test while Elena lay there motionless. "We just need to take some blood," said a petite nurse with almond eyes and olive skin. Her hair was in one long French braid that snaked down her back. She was the only nurse that actually tried to talk to her. Most of them gave up after she refused to say anything.

She pricked her skin with a needle. Elena didn't flinch. "You have the highest pain threshold I've ever seen. I've had grown men weep when I give them a shot or take blood, and you don't even bat an eye."

Elena's lips quirked up.

"You must've fallen a lot as a kid or something," the nurse added, slowly pulling blood from Elena's body.

"I biked a lot," she muttered. "Flew over the handlebars right into a tree biking with my brother down a hill behind our house. A broken branch cut my arm. The cut was so deep I wanted to cry, but I knew I couldn't because it'd scare my brother. So I pretended that I was fine, got back on my bike and we biked home."

"Did you cry when your mom saw?" The nurse inquired.

Elena shook her head. "No," she paused, licking her lips. Thinking. "I didn't want to scare her either. I didn't want them to know how much pain I was in."

The nurse nodded. "Brave kid."

A tall broad man in his early fifties walks in wearing a long lab coat with a white button up shirt and dockers, walks in. He has kind brown eyes and a full head of thick reddish brown hair. "Sophie, do you mind if I ask Ms. Gilbert some questions while you finish up?"

"Of course, Dr. Winters." She replies, cleaning up the small wound from the needle and checking my vitals.

"Good Afternoon, Ms. Gilbert. I'm happy to see you awake."

Elena smiled politely, unsure what he was going to ask her. Her eyes darted to the bandages on her wrists.

"Do you know how long you were out?"

Elena shrugged.

"Thirteen days," he said. Elena blanched. "We've been keeping you hydrated and fed through an enteral tube. Do you remember what happened?"

Elena thought for a moment, worried if she was too honest they wouldn't let her leave the hospital right away. "No," she replied.

He nodded and wrote something down on his iPad. The look he gave her next, told her that he didn't believe her, but wouldn't press.

"To suffered a severe concussion from an implement that fell on your head and combined with the blood loss from the self-inflicted wounds on your wrist, your body shut down and you went into a coma," he said. Elena just stared at him, not quite sure what to say. He sounded chastising, but it wasn't cruel. Maybe he just wanted her to understand how severe her injuries were, because of what she did to herself.

"You would've died if someone hadn't of been there," he added.

Elena's eyes narrowed and she frowned. How _did_ she get to the hospital? She remembered taking a baseball bat to her life and slitting her wrists with glass shards, but she should've died. No one would've heard and no one has a key to her apartment.

"Who brought me in?" she asked.

"You don't know?"

"Obviously, or I wouldn't be asking."

"Your boyfriend, Damon Salvatore," he states. "He didn't leave your side for a week."

Her boyfriend? Elena stifled an irritated sigh. "Where is he now?"

Dr. Winters actually flushed. "He hasn't been seen in a week."

The news hit her in a way she hadn't expected. She felt as though the air had been knocked out of her. Her eyes flitted to the window, realizing that it was raining.

"Is there someone we can call? The person on your emergency contact couldn't be reached."

Jenna.

"No," she replied. "When can I leave?"

Sophie had left, and the door was shut. It was just the two of them. The doctor standing by Elena's bed trying to read her, while she looked out the window and watched the rain fall. "We'll know when the tests come back, but everything so far is looking good. I'd like you to talk to someone about what happened."

She bit her lip, refusing to look at him. "It was an accident," she lied, knowing he knew she was lying. The slit wrists gave her away.

He gave her a look of disappointment. "I can have you placed under psychiatric hold, Ms. Gilbert. I implore you to tell me the truth so I can help you."

She didn't want help. She wanted to go home and kick Damon's ass for butting into her life and leaving her to deal with all the questions. Her eyes darted angrily to the doctor. "I found out that my aunt died and I was angry," she said, knowing this was the only way to get him to start the process to be discharged from the hospital. Then maybe she'd pick a bridge to jump off of, San Francisco had more than a few to choose from.

She continued. "I'm going to group therapy," she added. Thankfully, she has a year to complete her six months of group, so missing a couple of sessions wasn't going to set her back, not that it mattered anymore.

"I'm glad that you're going to group therapy, but you should be seeing someone at least twice a week," he stated. "Actually, I'd suggest an inpatient facility."

Elena panicked, willing to say anything to leave that day, if possible. "It was an accident. I was upset and acted impulsively. My aunt's death was a shock, and my little cousins just lost their mom. I really need to go to Virginia to see them and my uncle. I've probably missed her funeral…"

The doctor shook his head. "You need to take care of yourself. You're not well right now."

Anger Elena hadn't addressed surfaced. "I did the most selfish thing a person can do. I need to make this right."

Her words surprised her and she wasn't entirely sure if she was being sincere. They popped out from somewhere in her subconscious.

"I'm going to refer you to a doctor, but I'll sign your discharge papers when I feel like you're healthy enough to leave."

"Thank you," she replied.

He turned around and walked towards the door, pausing to look at her again before he left. "You're lucky your neighbor's flight was early and was there for you when he was. You would've died if he hadn't carried you to the ambulance."

Her mouth dropped in shock. The doctor knew Damon wasn't her boyfriend and Damon not only saved her, but he made sure she received help right away.

"You should forgive him for not being here right at this moment," he added.

She wasn't sure about that but was taken aback by his news.

Elena stayed at the hospital for three more days. Her blood work came back clean and there was no lasting damage from her concussion. On the day she was supposed to be released, Sophie came by with a bag and a vase full of white lilies. "These came for you!" she said, cheerfully. Elena wasn't irritated by Sophie's mood like she would've ordinarily been. It probably had to do with being able to leave soon.

She set the orchids on Elena's bedside table. They looked odd and plastic surrounded by her empty room. "Who sent them?" Elena asked.

Sophie shrugged. "Don't know. They were left at the front desk. Probably from your boyfriend."

Elena scowled. She doubted that.

Sophie raised her hand and showed her a bag. "I brought you some clothes!"

Elena grinned. She had nothing to wear and she had no one who would go to her apartment. She didn't have keys to get in. She didn't even have a phone to call someone to get her keys, she was just going to have to pray Damon was home since he's the only one who knows how to MacGuyver his way into her apartment.

Elena looked in the bag. Her wallet was in there. It was all they could recover from her when she came in and she was grateful it was still in her pocket from when she put her tips in it before she left work. There was also a worn Stanford sweatshirt, yoga pants, and converse sneakers. They smelled of laundry soap and Elena was extremely grateful for the effort Sophie went to.

"I figured we're close to the same size. I mean, you're taller and leaner but yoga pants are the universal equalizer," she explained with a wink. "I own like twelve pairs of converse sneakers, so feel free to keep."

"Thank you," Elena said, and she meant it. Her clothes had been ruined and probably incinerated.

"There's also a bag with gauze and medical tape," she said. "Don't forget to change your bandages daily. You'll need to come in for a check-up in a month. Dr. Winters will go through all the other details."

Dr. Winters has a general practice close to Elena's home, so he agreed to continue being her doctor, since she didn't have one and refused to go to any doctor since she hated hospitals, waiting rooms and open-back hospital gowns.

While Sophie put the bag on the chair, Elena opened the card that came with the flowers. When she saw what was written, she almost screamed. Not out of fear, but a combination of anger and shock. In a loopy scrawl, the card said, " _Suicide is self-murder. 2. Matthew 5:21 "You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, 'You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.' "_

Was someone trying to scare her or warn her? She wasn't sure. Religious zealots scared the hell out of her. How did they even know she was in the hospital? Maybe her story made the news. She'd been in a coma for two weeks. Something came back to her, a blurry memory of far away voices, a nurse in her room, saying something about God punishing her. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to recall anything else that might help her remember, but she couldn't. They were in her room. She ripped the letter up into pieces and threw it away, along with the flowers.

When she was done changing, there was a knock on her door. It was another nurse carrying an envelope. She handed it to Elena. "This was left for you at the front desk."

After the last envelope, she took this one tentatively. She opened it and pulled out her keys. Elena sagged with relief. She could get into her apartment and….what? Her apartment was probably still a mess and she most likely no longer had a job. She had her routine. She had the coffee shop she went to on Saturdays and the farmer's market she went to on Sundays. She could beg Danny for her job back. She cringed at the thought.

But then there was another thought that crept to the surface. She needed to call Alaric. She knew she missed Jenna's funeral and he had Meredith and Jack to look after. **_No._** He had nannies. Jenna had money. She was a world renowned psychologist. She wrote best-selling novels about dealing with grief and now she was the product of her own writing. God. _The poor children._ **_No_**. She shook her head again, suppressing the thought. They'd be fine. They have Alaric.

Once she signed her discharge papers and the doctor lectured her again about taking care of her injuries and seeing Dr. Evans, the psychologist he wanted her to see, she was wheeled out to a waiting cab. She could walk perfectly fine and after being in the hospital for two weeks, she was clear of any physical ailments and had to go back for check-ups and more CT scans, but they insisted on making her feel like an inviolate by wheeling her out in a wheelchair.

A short while later, she was outside her apartment. The sun was starting to set. Her hands fumbled with the keys, unable to get them in the lock. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking, so she clasped them together in an effort to get them to settle down. Why was something as simple as opening a door so hard?

Maybe, she needed a drink. She needed a connection, something to take the edge off, and then she could come home and figure things out. She spun around and left her apartment building, walking with renewed determination to a bar that she hadn't been to before. It was a few blocks from where she lived, located in a restored red brick building with large windows and rustic wood paneling. The bar was illuminated by caged metal light fixtures, giving the bar a cool industrial vibe. It was also extremely busy. She looked at her reflection in the windowpane. She was thin, the sweatshirt Sophie had let her borrow hung on her and her hair was still dead straight from the shower she took that morning. College students were in there, so she'd be underdressed, but she wouldn't be alone.

She walked in, sat on a stool and ordered a beer. The good doctor probably said something about not drinking alcohol right away, but she wasn't listening. He talked, her eyes glazed over. She gazed around the room, sipping her beer. There wasn't a dance floor, but a full restaurant upstairs. Couples and groups of people laughing and teasing each other good-naturedly made their way up to the restaurant, carrying their drinks

"Nice sweatshirt," someone said, sitting down next to her. He was younger, with light brown hair and hazel eyes. He gave her an award winning sardonic smirk that she was sure had sorority girl's panties dropping across the Bay Area.

This was the part where she was mean, said something to get him chasing after her, but she couldn't form the words. "Did you go to Stanford?" she asked, taking another sip of her drink.

He frowned. "I heard you were easy."

Her jaw went slack. "What do you mean?"

He pointed to a group of friends. "They told me that all I had to do was sit next to you at the bar, you'd insult me than allow me to follow you to the bathroom, where we'd have a two-minute shag. They said nothing about actually having a conversation."

She bit her lip, thinking. Had she gone to this bar before? None of his friends looked familiar. "I'm going to take a wild guess and conclude that you didn't go to Stanford, in fact, I doubt you function above a fourth-grade reading level."

She abandoned her drink and left a ten on the counter before she left. She'd go somewhere else. She didn't need this. The front entrance was blocked with arriving customers, so she made her way to the back, past the bathrooms, toward an exit sign. She weaved between the crowd toward the hallway, when she felt a hand wrap around her wrist and pull her back. She yelped in pain, her injury still sore.

The guy from the bar pushed her against the wall and lowered his head, his eyes hooded. He went for her mouth, but she dodged him, trying to free herself from his grasp. "Stop," she yelled. "You're hurting me."

He had her pinned to the wall with his hands wrapped around her wrists, his knee between her legs, keeping her in position. Her eyes watered and for the first time in a long time, she was afraid. Her eyes widened as the door to the bathroom opened and he made to drag her in. Suddenly, someone in leather came up behind them and he was pried away. "Get the fuck away from her!" he yelled, punching the guy from the bar across the jaw.

Elena slouched against the wall until she hit the floor. Damon continued to punch the guy until someone dressed in all black, possibly security, pulled him away. He looked feral and wild. Anger she'd never seen before and she didn't entirely believe it was for her.

She looked down at her wrists, and slowly pulled back the sleeves of her sweatshirt, trying to hide what she was looking at. The pressure he put on her wrists didn't pop any stitches. Thank God. She did not want to go back to the hospital.

Damon whispered something to the guys in black, and they dragged Elena's attacker somewhere behind a closed door. Damon went to her, crouched down and scooped her up into his arms. "Let's get you out of here," he whispered into her ear.

She didn't argue. She was suddenly so tired. Going out after being in a hospital for over two weeks was a bad idea. Damon smelled good, so damn good. Male and ivory soap. She couldn't help but nuzzle into his chest, her body dying for contact, any kind of contact.

Once outside, a black SUV pulled up. Still holding her, Damon spoke to the driver and put her in the back seat, laying her along the seat. She hesitated when he left her, letting out an audible protest that seemed to tumble out of her mouth. God, what was wrong with her. She wasn't this weak and needy, but the moment Damon came to her aid, she was so incredibly relieved there was someone in her life that was aware of her existence, she didn't want to let it go. He reminded her that she still had blood pumping through her body and coursing through her veins.

"I'll be right back," he whispered into her ear.

A few moments later, he climbed back into the car with a first aid kit. His cool blue eyes bore into her, trying to figure out her mental state. "I'm going to need you to sit up for me," he said.

She sat up. "Do you mind if I touch your wrist?"

She shook her head.

He slowly pulled up the sleeve of her sweatshirt and carefully unwrapped her bandage. She watched his long graceful fingers unwrap the gauze on her wrist. He cleaned up minor bleeding that had occurred with a wipe, then put on ointment. Even though the car started moving, her eyes were transfixed on his hands. She imagined those hands changing a baby's diaper, cradling it to sleep and holding the woman he loved. How often had she thought this when he made her breakfast, chopping vegetables or whisking pancake batter? The heart she refused to acknowledge for so long ached for him.

She thought of how Alaric felt. It wasn't sudden and they had time together, but she wondered briefly if knowing it was all going to end was worse than it happening without warning.

Damon was whisper soft with her wounds. He changed both bandages, not commenting on how she got them or what she was doing at the bar. He knew she was coming home from the hospital because he was the only one who would've gotten her keys and made sure she had them.

When he was done, he inspected his work and placed her hands in her lap, patting them before retreating. She looked out the window as they made their way back to their apartment building.

When the driver pulled up beside the building, she turned towards him and looked in his eyes, concern etched his face. "Thank you, but I'll be fine. You can go back to your evening."

He shook his head. "You are not fine, Elena."

She ignored him, got out of the car and made her way up to her apartment. Damon followed. "Why did you do it?" he yelled from behind her.

She continued to ignore him until she made it to her own door. She hesitated, having the same problem she did an hour ago. Her hands struggled to find the keys in her pocket. Why was this so hard?  
"If you were okay, you'd be able to answer my question."

She turned and glared at him. "Thank you for the ride, but I'm really okay. I'm just tired, I shouldn't have gone out."

He took the keys from her trembling hands and opened her door. "We need to talk."

"You left me!" she yelled. It felt good to let something that was bubbling inside her come out.

He walked into her apartment and she followed, slamming the door behind her. "I was supposed to die and you saved me and then you left me. I was alone in that hospital when I woke up. Completely alone. Why did you bother saving me? I wanted to die."  
Damon gazed at her, allowing her to yell.

Tears were streaming down her face, uncontrollable sobs broke from her like a dam. "You can't butt into my life like that. I was ready to die. I wanted it."

His expression softened as he watched her, but he didn't move. He knew, on some level, that she needed to let it out.

"I am a shell, Damon. I am a walking ghost, and you could've just let me end it, but you didn't and now I have to deal with this all-consuming pain," she rasped, collapsing to the wood floor in the middle of her entryway.

Her hands fell to the floor as she collapsed, turning away from him as she cried. Darkness clouding her every thought and action. It was like she couldn't escape the pain and the moment she tried, it was taken away from her. He fell to the floor next to her, holding her as she sobbed. She leaned into him, clasping the lapels of his leather jacket as she cried into his white shirt.

He wrapped his arms around her and soothingly rubbed her back, pulling her closer to him until she was in his lap. Elena was so tiny, she fit perfectly in his strong arms, her hair creating a veil around her head as he held her. He was warm and safe, cocooning her in his arms held a level of peace she hadn't ever felt.

Her tears slowed and she lifted her head up. "My Aunt died," she croaked.

Damon looked down into her eyes. "Did she…"

Elena shook her head. "Cancer. It was sudden."

His eyebrows lifted, questioningly. "She didn't tell you?"

"No," she said, looking down. "But she tried to call me and I didn't respond. I was mad because she spent our last phone call lecturing me. Now that I know what she was going through, I just….I don't think I'll ever forgive myself."

"Who told you she died?" he asked, not letting her go.

"Her husband," Elena replied into his jacket.

"You need to see him," Damon said.

She shook her head. "I can't. He probably hates me. I hung up on him and I probably missed the funeral. If I saw him, it'd just bring him more pain."

"You need to go, Elena. You'll regret it if you don't."

"I have my job to get back to and I need to go to group, or the court will have my head," she replied, trying to come up with more reasons to not leave.

"You're making excuses," Damon replied. "Your job wasn't really a job, it was a safety net, a way to avoid and the court probably gave you time to complete your group therapy requirement, or you can contest it because of what you're going through."

She pushed herself away from Damon and got up off of the ground, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "I can't go," she stated, walking to the kitchen. He got up and followed her.

"Do you go to bars alone often?" Damon asked.

Whoa. Change in topics. "When I want a drink," she replied, getting a bottle of water from the fridge.

"I think you go in search of something else," he said, sitting on a bar stool watching her as she opened the bottle of water and took a swig.

"What do you think I was looking for? Since you have all the answers, you should know."

"Connection," he replied. "Human contact."

She shrugged, trying not to let the fact that he knew her little secret get to her. "Were you there looking for a human connection?"

"I own the bar," he stated.

This made sense, considering he saw her and seemed to have some sort of ownership over the security team, but not all the dots were connecting. "You told me you go out of town for work, sometimes. Going to bar owner conventions in Las Vegas? Plus, you don't seem to have the hours of someone who owns a bar."

He ran his hands through his raven hair and placed his elbows on the table. "I own several bars across the country. I like to check on them, especially if they're undergoing new management, like my bar in D.C."

"You own bars across the country and you live in an apartment?"

He sighed, but he wasn't irritated. More amused at her attempt to deflect. "It's just me, Elena. A large house can get lonely and I like the area. Plus, I don't know if anyone's told you, but it's very expensive to live in San Francisco."

Her lip quirked up. "Believe me, I know how high the real estate market is in the city."

"I could ask you the same question. How does a diner waitress afford an apartment in Russian Hill?"

She bit her bottom lip. Of all the things she could confess, this was the most minor, but she worried it'd lead to other confessions and then she would be left out in the open. The thought terrified her. "I'm a very good waitress," she lied. She was shit and she knew it.

"You can't go to bars looking for a quick hook up," he stated, purposefully catching her off guard. "It's dangerous."

Her eyes narrowed. "You can't tell me what to do."

"I can make sure you get turned away at every bar in the city," he stated.

"You don't own every bar," she retorted.

"I know most of the owners," he said. "And I know most of the club owners."

"So you admit that you don't know everyone. I'll just find the bars where you don't have pull with the owners. Maybe a bar that's in competition with you. Maybe I'll try my hand at bartending, make the job of hooking up easier."

"You don't want to go to the bars I don't know, Elena," he said, darkly.

"You can leave now," she said. "Thank you for the ride home, and the….ummm…comfort, but I'm fine."

He shook his head. "Use me," he said.

"What?"

"If you need a human connection, use me," he stated. He was dead serious. "I'll scratch your itch."

"No," she replied. She knew him. It would make it real. Anonymity was part of the thrill.

"Am I that hideous to look at?" He asked.

"Right now, yes."

"This wasn't the first time someone has been rough with you. I can't allow that to happen again," he replied.

He can't allow it to happen again? She didn't feel like they knew each other well enough for him to care or make such declarations. "Why do you care? Just go home, Damon. Leave me alone."

"I care because you almost bled to death in my arms," he said.

"I'm not your mission, Damon, or your charity case. I'm not someone you can use so you feel better about what happened to your family. I wanted to die and you took that from me," she yelled, walking to her front door and opening it for him to walk through and leave, forever.

"You don't mean that," he replied, not moving from his chair. "Life sucks, Elena. Grow the fuck up."

His words stung. As if waiting for the impact to fully hit her, he got up and walked out. She shut the door behind him and walked to her bedroom in a stunned haze. He shouldn't bother with her, she was a lost cause.

Her bedroom was clean and there was a new vanity mirror up. A phone was plugged into her wall. It had to be a new one, considering she shattered hers. She had a new bedspread and the blood was cleaned off her floor. She instantly felt sick. He did this for her. But she didn't want to be saved! She wanted to yell it until he understood, but instead, she crashed on her bed and stared out her window until she fell asleep.

She dreamed of white bibles, pools filled with blood and cages.

Elena woke to a noise coming from her kitchen. She knew who it was and was fully prepared to kick him out. She stomped to the kitchen and saw him in his half apron making pancakes. "Get the fuck out of my apartment," she yelled.

He turned around and regarded her like she was intruding on him. "Has that ever worked before?"

No, he never left when she asked. "Please just go, Damon."

He shook his head. "No," he replied. "If I had left last night, would you have tried again?"

"You didn't leave last night?" she asked. Her ambivalence to him being there seemed to answer his question.

He shrugged. "I slept on the couch."

"I didn't ask you to stay. I don't need a watchdog."

"A watchdog isn't a bad idea. Or a bodyguard," he added, thoughtfully. "You need a shower and then we'll clean up your bandages and I'll make you a plate of pancakes."

They were back to their usual routine, but something was different, he had something planned, she could feel it. She rolled her eyes and left to take a shower, because she really did want one. She still smelled like the sterile hospital.

After she took a shower and changed into jeans and a plum colored t-shirt, she padded into the kitchen with the gauze the doctor gave her.

When she entered the kitchen, Damon was sitting in her living room watching the television and drinking a cup of coffee. She wasn't aware she had coffee. There were bags by the door. He must be flying out of town again. She couldn't help but acknowledge the small amount of sadness that slowly started to creep into her.

"Do you have the bandages? If not, I can get some from my apartment," he said, without turning around to look at her, eyes still watching the television, a rerun of Parks and Recreation.

She walked over and sat on the couch, placing the gauze and tape in front of him. She took the cup of coffee from his hands and took a sip while he cut a strip of gauze to use. She placed the coffee on the table and held out her hands, allowing him to delicately take care of her wrists while her eyes were trained on the television.

"Where are your other bars?" she asked, while he taped off one of her wrists.

"New York, Miami, D.C., Carmel, Malibu, L.A., and we're opening one up in Oahu," he replied.

"Why bars?" she asked, as he put ointment on her other wrist.

"I like to drink and it seemed like a natural progression. Why do you waitress at diners?"

He liked tossing things back at her. A constant push and pull to get information out of each other. "The hours," she replied. "I don't get a lot of sleep and had insomnia issues. Working the graveyard shift helped."

He nodded. "I get that."

Her brows furrowed. "You do?"

"Why do you think I own bars? Late hours help fill in gaps of time."

Two insomniacs. What a pair they are.

Damon finished wrapping her wrists, and got up, collecting the medical supplies. "Come grab your pancakes," he ordered.

She got up and followed him to the kitchen. He had orange juice out, the good stuff Elena liked and she poured two glasses, while he plated pancakes he kept warm in the oven. They were in the shape of Mickey Mouse, which made her smile. Always Mickey Mouse.

She poured warm syrup on her pancakes and bacon and took her plate and juice back to the couch. He took his spot next to her. He looked apprehensive, like he needed to tell her something and suddenly she realized that there was something different about this morning. "Why did you come back?" she asked between bites, looking at her plate and not him. "I was pretty mean to you last night. Actually, I'm always mean to you. I don't know why you keep coming back."

"You're funny," he said.

"Huh?" He was so confusing, constantly going in verbal circles until he caught her off guard enough to make his point.

"You're funny and insightful and strong. I'm curious to get to know the person behind the thick massive wall you've put up," he said.

"If you think there's someone worth saving behind that wall, you're very wrong."

He shook his head. "I'm not trying to save you, I'm trying to get to know you. You just happen to like putting yourself in danger and I happened to be around in those moments."

This couldn't happen. He was getting too close and too comfortable. "I'm not interested in a relationship, Damon."

He looked up at her and smiled, his grey-blue eyes filled with amusement. "We're already in one, sweetheart."

She scowled. "I really need to change my locks."

"Won't matter, we're going out of town."

The bags by the door. What did he have planned? "We're not going anywhere."

He shook his head, smiling. It was sexy as hell and annoying. "We're going to Virginia Beach to see your Uncle."

She dropped the fork full of pancake and it clattered on her plate. "Damon, I can't go. I told you last night, he won't want to see me."

"That's not what he said on the phone this morning," he replied.

"You called him? How did you know his name or where he lives? How did you know his number?" She was in shock. She couldn't see her Uncle and cousins with bandaged wrists. Virginia Beach was her hometown. She'd see people she grew up with. One of the reasons she loved San Francisco was because of the anonymity it gave her and the fact that it was on the other side of the country.

"My phone," she said in answer to her own question. "You looked through my phone."

He didn't look embarrassed, he just nodded like it was obvious. "Your phone was smashed and I wanted to be able to contact someone just in case anything happened."

"But we hardly know each other! You can't just interfere in my life," she replied in exasperation. She couldn't believe he didn't understand this. He was stubborn as hell. "Does Alaric know?"

Damon shook his head. "No, I wouldn't tell him that."

"What did he say?" she asked, suddenly curious.

"He said that he wanted to see you and I told him we were flying in today."

He didn't hate her. He wanted to see her. She nodded, no longer angry. "Okay."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thank you for all the kind reviews. It keeps me motivated to whip out chapters at a quicker pace. In the last chapter, Elena agreed to go to Virginia with Damon to see Alaric, but in this chapter, you see reality set in. Just because she agreed to go, doesn't mean she's ready to go or should go. Many of you wonder why Damon is helping her or what compels him to be so invested in Elena and in order to get the answer to that question, you really only have to look at his past. That's part of the reason he's so ready to help her, but he also sees someone who can help him because Elena's probably the only person that could possibly understand him and what he's gone through. This chapter really focuses on Damon trying and struggling to keep Elena on a positive path. I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think. -Jackie-

 **Chapter 4**

About two minutes after Elena agreed to go to Virginia, she had a meltdown. She was in her closet packing while Damon cleaned up the kitchen when she realized she had very few long sleeved shirts. "Goddammit!" she yelled, throwing a pile of tops she'd gone through back in the closet.

"What happened?" Damon asked, he still had a cloth and disinfectant spray in his hands. When she saw what he was holding, she snorted, momentarily forgetting why she was so mad.

"I don't own Honest Company's disinfectant spray," she stated, looking at the bottle. He must've bought it.

"It's good for your skin and the environment," he replied, a little too defensively. "Why were you yelling?"

She looked at her pathetic closet and held up her wrists. "I have like two long sleeved shirts and one of them isn't going to work." She held up a black and white baseball shirt that said, "Hope you like my new recipe, they're called shut the fucupcakes."

Damon barked out a laugh.

"And I can't get away with wearing a peacoat, dirty Stanford sweatshirt or my leather jacket the entire trip," she complained.

"I'll be right back," he said, leaving her to pack what she did have. She honestly didn't care what she wore, she just didn't want to bring attention to the fact that she'd been in the hospital. Actually, she couldn't even bring herself to say why she was in the hospital. She hoped she could just pretend it never happened. Elena Gilbert was a master at compartmentalization. She could easily take the last 16 days, place it in a box and store it in the recesses of her mind. It made functioning around people tolerable.

Damon came back five minutes later with a stack of flannel and white button-up shirts. "You can wear these until we have time to shop."

He bent down and placed them in her bag, handing her one of them to wear over her t-shirt. She looked down at the worn blue material of the sweatshirt he was letting her borrow. "UCLA?" she asked.

He held his fist up in the air and pumped it up toward the ceiling. "Go bears!" he weakly shouted and then shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't graduate, so you can keep the sweatshirt."

"Why didn't you graduate?" she asked, putting on the sweatshirt. it drooped over her knees, but was comfortable and smelled like him. Something she'd never admit, but liked. Damon started folding clothes that Elena threw in, effectively repacking her items. "Married young and wanted to provide for my wife."

Elena's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Couldn't you go to school too?"

He sighed, resigning to tell the truth. "School's not my thing. The moment I had an excuse to give it up, I did."

Elena nodded. "Same."

He looked up, surprised. "Really?"

She nodded. "I couldn't stand to sit in a crowded classroom and learn about something that'd never apply to what I really wanted to do."

Damon moved the shoes in her bag so they fit in a more organized fashion. "What did you really want to do?"

"Write, which you can go to school for, but I wanted to write about life. I feel like you have to experience life in order to write about it. You can't write about a course lecture," she paused, thinking about it. "I guess you can, but that'd essentially be the equivalent of taking notes."

"Huh…" Damon muttered, refocusing on repacking Elena's clothes.

Elena glared at Damon, sweeping a lock of hair off her shoulder. "What do you mean, huh?"

"Well, if you want the honest truth…" he said.

"Have you ever given me anything but the honest truth?"

"Fair point," he stated. "It's just that you quit school because you wanted to experience life, and instead, you fled your hometown to become a waitress at a diner, when most people are asleep."

Her whole body immediately sagged at his words. She had, of course, repeated them to herself often. "Yeah," was all she could say.

Damon was taken aback by her lack of defense. He was so used to her verbal spar, that he didn't expect her to relent so quickly. "What caused the change?"

"My desire to experience life changed into a desire to get through the day without completely breaking down," she replied. "I went to the University of Virginia and I don't know how to describe it, but I felt claustrophobic, so I dropped out and went west. Got as far away as I could."

"How long has it been since you've been back?" Damon asked.

"Back to Virginia Beach?" she asked. He nodded in reply. "I haven't."

"So this is going to be an awkward trip," Damon commented.

Elena zipped up her bag and stood up. "You don't have to go, Damon."

"I bought two tickets, Elena. One for you and one for me," he took the bag from her hand and made his way to the door. "You have everything?"

She took one last look at her room, the nook where she read, and the Tiffany lamp she bought with Jenna when they went antiquing. It caught the glint of something shiny on the floor, one of the small diamond hoops her mother got for graduating high school, Elena wore _that_ night. They must've been knocked out when she was hit in the head, or when she was swinging the bat and smashing everything. The one stud sparkled on the floor next to a dark maroon stain cemented into the wood flooring. Light caught in dark. Solitary. Abandoned. "I think so," she muttered softly as she followed Damon out.

Elena noticed something as they waited at the gate, sitting in black vinyl seats across from two kids playing on their iPad on the floor. Damon was fidgeting. He constantly changed positions in his seat and played with the zipper on his carryon bag. "I got us rooms at a hotel on the beach," she said, trying to get him to calm down.

He froze and turned toward her like he didn't realize she was sitting right next to him. "Why aren't we staying at your Uncle's?"

"It'd be awkward. Plus, do you want to stay in a home with two small children and their sticky hands, running around and screaming at the top of their lungs?"

His brows furrowed, contemplating her words. "You don't like kids?"

Elena shrugged. "Did I not just make that clear?"

"When was the last time you saw your cousins?" Damon asked.

"Aunt Jenna visited me a couple of years ago and brought them when they were just babies," she paused. "Wait, three is still a baby, right?"

Damon put his head in his hands. "No," he groaned.

Elena remembered Damon's child and immediately felt a pang of guilt. He might have asked the question and was digging for information, but she could've acted like she didn't completely abhor children. "You'll like Meredith and Jack," she said. "They're so well behaved, they're more alien than children."

Damon took his head out of his hands and regarded her with a mixture of amusement and surprise. "Alien?"

She stood up, slung her purse over her shoulder and nodded her head. "Little monsters," she replied dryly. She had to so something, get up and move around before she had to sit on a plane and had seven hours to think about her destination. "I'm going to go to the overpriced bookstore and buy inflated priced distraction for the plane. Do you want anything? Playboy Magazine? Playgirl Magazine? Bon Appetite?"

He smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll come with you."

Damon put his satchel over his shoulder and followed in Elena's wake. Elena was still coming off of a panic attack from going through security because TSA wanted her to take off her sweatshirt. She stood there, barefoot, frozen with a line of people waiting behind her, unable to form words, instead, tugging at her sleeve self-consciously. Luckily, Damon was behind her and spoke for her, something Elena would've ordinarily hated, but in that moment was eternally grateful for. Damon told them that she didn't feel comfortable taking off her sweatshirt, so he asked if they could scan her with a wand, which they agreed to.

"Big Red or Juicy Fruit?" Elena asked, holding up two packs of gum.

"Big Red," Damon replied like the choice was obvious.

Elena held onto it, along with the Diet Coke and the latest New York Times Bestselling mystery she picked out.

Damon held up a pack of condoms. "Think you're going to need that itch scratched 40,000 feet up in the air?"

She scoffed, taking the condoms out of his hand and putting them back on the shelf. "I always come prepared, Damon."

His eyebrows rose. "Really…"

Elena smirked, looking at a purple inflated neck pillow with butterflies on it. "Don't get your hopes up, Damon. I like my men compliant and anonymous."

Damon rolled his eyes. "And complete assholes," he muttered under his breath.

Elena put down the pillow and picked up a pack of NyQuill. "If you're not careful, I'm going to slip this entire pack into your Coke."

Damon looked took it out of her hands. "Good idea. I don't think I'll be able to stand an entire flight sitting next to Little Miss Snarky."

"Well, you did book us seats right next to each other. It's your funeral," she muttered, walking away from him to look at cheesy San Francisco souvenirs.

Damon had left to talk to the front desk about seats on their return flight when a tall broad man approached Elena as they were in line boarding their flight. He had warm hazel eyes, messy brown hair and a five o'clock shadow that'd feel heavenly on Elena's thighs. She squirmed at the sight of him. It had been a while and with Damon mentioning itches, she couldn't get her mind off of it.

"Nice shirts," he commented, looking at the souvenirs she bought for Meredith and Jack. They were shirts that said, "Alcatraz Psycho Ward Outpatient". She thought the shirts would annoy Alaric, which made her smile.

Elena took one out to show him so he could read the lettering more clearly. He smirked. "They're for my cousins."

"Their parents are going to kill you," he replied, raking her body with his eyes and licking his lips.

Parents. Plural. She felt herself grow cold and uncomfortable.

"You're a cyclist, aren't you?" he observed.

She nodded, surprised. "What gave me away?" She hadn't been on a long ride in a while.

He spent some time gazing at her long legs in black leggings.

Damon came up behind her and possessively placed a hand on her shoulder. It wasn't entirely intimate, more of Damon's way of getting someone to back off.

Damon leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I got us bumped to first class for the way back, too."

Damon's smell, completely masculine and the way his words somehow had her skin prickling did nothing to help that itch. Dammit. The guy with hazel eyes turned around and started fiddling with his boarding pass. Damon let go and took a step back, handing Elena her's.

When they boarded the plane and sat down, Damon immediately ordered bourbon. "One of the perks of flying first class," he said at the look of moderate concern Elena gave him.

"You don't like flying," she observed.

"Who does?" Damon asked though she could tell he was hiding something.

"No," she corrected. "You're afraid of flying. Not really a surprise, Damon Salvatore needs to be in control."

He glared at her. She glared back. The flight attendant interrupted their stare-off with Damon's drink, which he immediately downed and asked for another. Elena looked mildly impressed. "What does drunk Damon look like?" she inquired.

"You don't want to know," he muttered.

He was in a sour mood. She held up her hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, okay then."

He leaned over and placed his hands on his knees, running both hands through his hair. They hadn't even taken off yet and he was freaking out. Elena thought for a moment while the plane slowly moved from the terminal towards the runway, biting her lip in concentration. Then, she nodded to herself, an affirmation that she needed to do what she was about to do.

"My mom and dad were something writers could use as inspiration for what real love looked like," she started to share. She never told people this, but the moment seemed to inspire it. "They quite literally couldn't live without each other. They couldn't just finish each other's sentences, they could read each other's minds. On Sunday mornings, they'd run on the beach together. Sometimes they'd be gone for hours. One morning, when I was eleven, I was curious as to what they were up to, so I tried looking for them. I found them sitting the beach, my dad holding my mom in his lap while he played with her hair as they looked out at the ocean. They were loud and then they were quiet. Their arguments were epic, but the silences were filled with longing, unspoken words that only they understood."

Damon took his head out of his hands and looked at Elena, while she stared out the window, telling him about the people she loved. "It happened on a Friday night. My dad was at a friend's house playing poker for his monthly poker game. He got drunk and didn't want to drive home, so he called my mom to pick him up. It was raining. Hard. Thunder and lightening. I watched my little brother at home while my mom left to pick up my dad."

Damon's brows furrowed, his eyes clouded over and wrapped his hand around Elena's, intertwining his fingers. She let him.

"Drunk driver," Elena replied to his unspoken question. "It wasn't quick. People always say that in an attempt to comfort someone, like if it was quick, the fact that the person is dead is more tolerable. My mom was in the hospital for a while before she died. I remember visiting her and holding her cold hand as I said goodbye."

Elena wasn't crying, instead, she closed her eyes and took a long deep breath.

"We're in the air," Damon commented.

Something curled in Elena, she needed something. The itch. She grabbed the drink the flight attendant had brought Damon when they were taxiing out of his hand and downed it. She slowly exhaled, letting the liquid burn her throat. Her eyes flickered open and she handed the empty cup to Damon and released her other hand from his grasp.

"What's the deal with you and flying? You fly all the time."

He sighed. "It's complicated."

"Obviously."

Elena's eyes darted to the guy with hazel eyes sitting in the row across from them. She made eye contact, raised an eyebrow and smiled suggestively. He unbuckled his belt and got up. She unbuckled her's, ready to follow, but Damon grabbed her hand. "What?" she said, slightly irritated.

He looked at her knowingly, rubbing soothing circles in the palm of her hand. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

What was he doing? The circular motion was causing lava to pool in her lower belly. _God._

No. She pried her hand away and turned back toward the guy sitting in the row next to their's, but he'd left. Apparently to actually go to the bathroom.

"Well?" he asked.

"I'm going to read," she replied, not looking at him. Frustrated and irritated.

She pulled out her book and sat back, trying to take her mind off of Damon and her destination and the needy desire that was starting to build. The distraction that self-sabotage provided.

What did she used to do to distract herself back when she was normal? She'd go for bike rides throughout the city. She'd write the book that she kept starting and restarting. She'd have afternoon tea at the Rotunda with friends. Now long forgotten. She'd paint in Golden Gate park and antique shop in Sausalito. She'd swim. She could swim in the coldest Pacific waters and not feel a thing, she just liked the feel of water enveloping her.

Reality had hit her hard and kept hitting her. Punishing her for daring to live when those who deserved it couldn't.

Elena reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, plugging in her earbuds so she could listen to music. Thanks to the gin and tonic the flight attendant brought her and she promptly downed, she fell asleep listening to bands like Nova Amour and Vancouver Sleep Clinic.

Jenna handed her a baby with blue eyes. Elena refused to hold it because it wouldn't stop crying. Alaric stood nearby and made Elena sit on a porch swing because she was so upset. He placed the baby in her arms and she stopped crying.

"Elena!" he hissed. "Elena….shhhhhh…it's okay."

Elena woke with a start. Her earbuds had been pulled out and Damon was looming over her. She looked around to see if anyone else had noticed her outburst. No one seemed to have seen her completely lose it or seemed to mind.

She wiped her eyes. She'd been crying. "Sorry."

Jenna. The reason she was in a plane seemed to hit her like a wave knocking her back into the depths of the ocean. She'd have to see Alaric and Meredith and Jack. She'd have to say something consoling when the only things that came out of her mouth were words laced with bitter resentment.

She had to do something.

"Elena, are you okay?" Damon asked, trying to get her to look at him. She refused, instead took advantage of her aisle seat so she could make eye contact with someone who could itch her scratch. Anyone. The guy with hazel eyes was back, reading a magazine. She leaned over and tapped his arm.

He looked at her with hunger in his eyes. Yes. "Can I borrow your magazine? I don't have anything to read and I'm bored to death."

He grinned and flipped the magazine over so she could see the cover. "You're into Auto Weekly?"

She bit her bottom lip. "Yeah, of course. I love automobiles and all motorized vehicles."

He laughed. She unbuckled her seatbelt and tilted her head. "Unless you have something else to occupy my mind."

His eyes darkened. "I do."

Damon coughed. She'd been ignoring him since she woke up. When she didn't turn towards him, he continued to cough. It sounded as though he was about to cough up a lung. Was he choking? She gave in and turned towards him to see if he was okay. "Damon!" she yelled, he was doubled over, hacking.

"Switch seats with me," he wheezed between coughs.

She had no clue how this could help, but she got up so they could switch. He held onto her hips as the switched, the touch warned her. What was he up to?

The moment they sat down, he immediately stopped coughing and he pushed the bell for a flight attendant. He ordered a blanket and a cup of ice water.

"You faked that coughing fit," Elena accused.

He smirked, nodding. "Yes, I did."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"  
He sighed like this was obvious. "I didn't want to get kicked off our next flight because you felt like screwing some random dipshit in the bathroom."

Elena rolled her eyes. Damn him. The flight attendant came back with ice water that she put on his seat tray and the blanket. Damon spread the blanket over Elena's lap. "I'm not cold, Damon."

One of his eyebrows shot up. He quickly glanced around to make sure no one was looking. "If you want me to stop, just say so and I will," he said in a hushed whisper.

 _What?_

He dipped his index finger and middle finger into the cup of ice water and swirled it around. He took it out and reached below the blanket beneath Elena's lap. She sucked in air as he gently lifted the hem of her sweatshirt and splayed his hand on her lower abdomen. He looked at her for approval and she nodded. She needed this too badly.

Using his cold fingers, he massaged circles in a figure eight motion. She gasped at the cold touch of his fingers combined with the warmth swirling within her. To anyone looking on, they'd think that Damon and Elena were just having a deep conversation or watching a movie on her screen, instead Damon's fingers went beneath the band of her leggings and cupped her, using his hand to expertly apply pressure to her as his finger snaked beneath her panties and pressed her clit, then torturously swirled it around.

A desperate needy moan escaped her lips. Fearful someone would come over, Damon tilted her head to the side so she could mew in the safety of the crook of his arm. His fingers continued their ministrations until his middle finger went inside her. She bit his shoulder in surprise as he pumped his finger in her, crooking it slightly so it'd hit that sweet spot. Elena arched to him and it took everything in her to not actively ride his hand.

It was so wrong. Doing this act in the middle of an airplane, but it only added to her excitement. She could feel sweat bead on her skin and she had the strong desire to take off the sweatshirt Damon gave her. Pressure inside her built and then slowly died when he withdrew his finger. She sighed, disappointed until he inserted two fingers and continued to thrust inside her, the surprise of the added pressure caused her to gasp.

Her head was nuzzling his shoulder, crying out in the sleeve of his shirt as the pressure that built within her broke and she felt her release. Damon kept his fingers there, pumping with greater speed while she rode out her orgasm.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand. The absence of his hand left her wanting more, which was not good. Her head was still in the crook of his arm, sighing, feeling a little less needy. Sated. Jesus Christ this was bad.

"You okay in there?" He asked, petting her hair, allowing her to stay hidden in his arm as long as she needed.

She nodded, refusing to leave the safety of his arm. What did she just do? She'd have to face him. Not only that, but she had to face him for an entire week while she visited Alaric. She cursed herself for allowing this to happen. The guy with the hazel eyes wouldn't have been so bad. But Damon was so good. Damn him.

When she felt it was safe, she lifted her head. Damon tenderly combed hair that had been mussed while she was in Damon's arm and tucked the hairs behind her ear. She withdrew. Regret filled her face.

"Did I scratch your itch?" he asked.

She scowled. "You didn't scratch and itch, you fucking took a rake to it."

His eyebrows shot up. "That good?"  
"That bad."

She grabbed her phone, pointedly put her earbuds in and shifted towards the window, turning her music up so loud, she wouldn't be able to hear herself think.

They landed and Elena decided to pretend that what happened, never happened. She ignored Damon's nervous twitches as they landed, and refused to distract him as she tried to do when they took off. She was so angry, she couldn't think straight.

While Damon was getting their bags at the baggage carousel, Elena looked at her phone. It wasn't late, but because of the time change, she was tired. She texted Alaric that she'd bring over breakfast the next morning. While she was on her phone, hazel eyes strolled over to her. "I'm in town on business," he said. "I'm Eric, by the way."

She gave him a noncommittal smile, knowing he'd forever be a reminder of what she let Damon do to her on the plane. When she didn't say anything, he just laughed and handed her his card. "You're different, I like you. Call me if you want to have drinks."

He walked off to grab his bag just as Damon sauntered over with their luggage. Elena quickly put the card in her purse.

Damon was cocky and smirking. It was annoying as hell. "I got us a rental car."

She glared at him. "Wipe the smirk off of your face. You caught me in a weak moment, it won't happen again."

He shrugged, not believing her. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. Let's go."

Damon turned around and walked with their luggage toward the rental car desk. She watched him walk away, his jeans hanging low. They looked good. Dammit.

"Don't call me sweetheart!" she yelled, running to catch up to him. People turned around to look at them and she ignored them, not caring what they thought. "You're such a jackass!"

He kept on walking, not listening to her verbal abuse.

Elena booked two rooms at a boutique luxury hotel in Virginia Beach, right on the ocean. Damon drove them in the Audi SUV he'd rented and pulled up to the round driveway. She told him to wait in the car, but of course, he followed her in as she checked in, even after she'd been ignoring him.

She was walking through the marble lobby and past a massive mosaic tiled fountain with an iron mermaid sitting on a rock at the center. Damon followed in her wake, when she heard a familiar squeal. Elena cursed. _Shit. Fucking shit._

"Elena Gilbert!" A blonde tornado in blue ran to her and gave her a suffocating hug. "I can't believe your back." She broke the hug and held Elena away form her by the shoulders so she could properly inspect her. "You bitch, you're way too thin," she said with a smile.

Elena's eyes widened and she took a large step back, away from the blonde. "Caroline Forbes, what are you doing here?"

Caroline pointed to the name tag pinned to her blue blouse tucked into a white pencil skirt. "Executive Manager," she replied. "Can you believe it? We used to sneak into this hotel's pool when we were kids."

Damon sidled up next to Elena and held out his hand. Caroline drank him in. After a seven-hour plane ride, including layover, he still looked good. Dammit. "Who's this?" Caroline asked, taking his hand.

"Damon Salvatore…"

"He's my neighbor," Elena interrupted lamely.

Caroline gave her a confused expression. Damon grinned, enjoying seeing Elena less dark and broody and more flustered. "Okay," Caroline muttered, directing her attention back to Elena. "I'm really sorry about your Aunt and that you couldn't make the funeral. It was a beautiful service."

Great. The whole town knew she wasn't at the funeral…of course, they did, Jenna was beloved, as was her entire family. Elena wondered what Alaric told everyone because everyone must've noticed that she wasn't there. She had a firm desire to leave. Run back to the airport and fly home. Damon drew closer to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"We need to check in," he said. "Can you direct us to the front desk?"

Caroline gave him a scathing look, one that was the complete opposite of the one she gave him earlier. It was as though she didn't like this stranger coming between local social business. "Elena, why don't _you_ stay with me? You shouldn't be alone right now."

Damon pulled Elena closer. "She's not alone."

Caroline scoffed. "She just called you her neighbor, not friend or boyfriend. NEIGHBOR."

Elena remained mute. What was Alaric going to say? She tugged at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, pulling them around her fists.

"I'm a very friendly neighbor," he replied, coolly.

Elena shook her head, waking herself up. "Caroline, just get us our rooms."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

Elena nodded. Caroline led them to the front desk. "I'll take care of you," she said, smiling at Elena and kicking a young receptionist off his computer.

Caroline typed on her computer and looked up. "You know, it's kinda amazing that you're here right now because I need your help."

The moment she saw Caroline, she should've taken that as a sign to hightail it back to the airport. "I'm going to be really busy," Elena said, hoping this would appease Caroline.

"I upgraded you to a suite on our top floor," Caroline said to her. "Your _neighbor_ will be in a standard room, conveniently located next to the elevator, on a lower level floor."

Elena sighed, knowing exactly what Caroline was doing. "What do you need?"

She squealed. Elena sagged. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. "I'm head of a charity group that works with the local boys and girls club," Caroline started. Of course she was. Elena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "We're putting on a carnival at our old high school for all the kids in the club. The proceeds go toward sending the kids to a camp on Buggs Island Lake with team building exercises, like ropes courses and campfire roasts. I could really use your help setting up. You were so good in high school helping me with these sorts of events."

Elena spent a good portion of her high school career in the gym helping Caroline blow up balloons for a dance or passing out fliers for a charity drive. But she knew she'd have no time, since she was planning on spending most of the trip trying to smooth things over with Alaric and at the beach with a cocktail in hand, wearing a long sleeve cover-up and a large hat and avoiding every single local.

But before she could say anything, Damon spoke for her. "We'd love to help out," he replied. Elena gave him a death glare.

Caroline handed them their room keys with a smile. "Fantastic!" she said, overjoyed. "We're meeting at the high school gym, tomorrow at 1:00."

Elena took the keys and forced a smile, ready to look up returning flights leaving at noon, the moment she was alone in her hotel room. Caroline walked from behind the reception desk to hug Elena before Elena went to her room. "It's so good to see you," she said, and Elena knew she was being sincere, which hurt even more.

Damon and Elena walked toward the elevators with their bags.

"I can't believe she didn't upgrade me after I offered to help," he said, indignantly, looking at his key.

Elena rolled her eyes. He tried to cut their conversation off and treated Caroline like she worked there, which she did, but in Caroline's world, it was rude to point out or act like she worked for him. "You burned Caroline Forbes," she commented. "Be grateful you still have both balls."

They got on the elevator and Elena pushed the button for her floor. She looked at Damon expectantly, waiting for him to press the button for his floor. Finally, she sighed. "What floor are you on," she asked, her hand hovering over the buttons.

Damon swatted her hand away from the panel. "You're not staying by yourself."

"Damon, I'm not a child. I got you your own room."

"And you have a suite. Plenty of room for me on the couch," he replied.

She exhaled loudly and was grateful no one else was on the elevator with them. "I'm not going to do anything."

Damon regarded her for a moment. "I want to believe you," he said. "And I also want to believe you won't run the moment you're out of my sight."

"I need my own room," she replied, exasperated that she had to have this conversation.

Damon looked at her wrists. "I need to change your bandages. You've had a long flight and we should change them after you shower."

She closed the elevator doors and waited for the car to ascend to their floor. "Be careful, Salvatore. I'll set you up on a date with Caroline if you continue to treat me like I'm twelve, and you should know that Caroline likes to create itineraries for all of her dates."

Damon laughed, but Elena gave him a look that told him she wasn't kidding.

When they reached the hotel room, Elena dropped her things in her room and went into the bathroom to take a shower, while Damon watched television in the living room. Caroline was nice to upgrade her to such a nice room. It had a full kitchen, bath and separate bedroom with a king sized bed. It also had a balcony that looked out on the Atlantic Ocean.

Hot water steamed the bathroom as she stripped out of her sweatshirt and leggings. She looked at the bandages on her wrists. How was she going to help Caroline and hide this? How was she going to see Alaric and his kids and explain where she'd been? She knew that she wasn't going to say a word about being in the hospital. She didn't want him to worry, especially after all he'd been through. She stepped into the hot shower, letting the water burn her skin.

And Damon….she needed to get Damon to leave, so she could deal with this situation and leave. She couldn't believe he volunteered her for carnival duty and he didn't seem like the type who ordinarily volunteers. Why did he do it? She'd tell him that she wanted to leave tomorrow and he'd have to deal with it. Plain and simple.

But there was something aching in the back of her mind. The unopened box she'd compartmentalized and refused to acknowledge. The desire to give up. The anger. The guilt. The shame that she knew would become more intense the moment she saw Alaric the next day. She stood, leaning against the tiled wall. What was she doing here? It would be better if he never saw her again. She should've stayed in San Francisco. Jenna was sick and she had no clue. The last conversation Elena had with her was one where Elena hung up, she was so angry. Jenna was like a sister to her, and she died when they were in the middle of a fight, because she was worried about Elena. Her heart ached at the acknowledgement of these thoughts. Why was she so selfish? And Jeremy. God, Jeremy. Being back…going back to her high school? How was she going to survive tomorrow?

There was a knock at the door. "Elena?"

Jeremy was an artist. He painted the timber-wolf on the side of the school building. They kept it in memorandum to him. And she had to go back.

"Elena!"

She slumped to the floor, hugging her knees. The ache within her producing tears that blended in with the water splashing against her face. Jeremy was that kid everyone loved. He was kind, but sad. So sad and Elena didn't recognize it. She didn't want to recognize his sadness because it took her away from her own.

"Elena!" There was banging on the door. Slamming of fists against the door. The toggle of the door knob.

Being back in Virginia Beach brought it all back. Coming back was suicide and she knew it.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: So a few of you have been wondering about that itch that was scratched in the last chapter. While I don't like giving things away in my author's note or pointing out something that hopefully is implied in the writing, I did want to address this. It's unrealistic to assume that Elena would simply give up this way of coping just because she's with Damon or is going to Virginia. In an odd way, Damon's presence is actually driving her to that habit because she is attracted to him and wants to avoid feelings towards ANYONE. Elena scratches her itch in an attempt to avoid life, avoid feelings, avoid emotional pain and avoid deep seeded guilt that she has. She also uses it to feel a little less lonely. It gives her physical intimacy and feeds her desire to avoid, and at the same time gives her a physical and tangible reason to hate herself. If she feels dead and alone after an encounter with a guy, she doesn't have to feel alone because she's actually alone. She has severe abandonment issues. When she's feeling overwhelmed or stressed, her desire to scratch her itch goes to the forefront of her mind. On the plane, she started feeling antsy because she had to confront a lot at once, especially after being in the hospital for so long, so she had a desire to get the high that comes with an orgasm and avoid what she was actually trying to escape. Damon is worried about her and feels a sense of responsibility towards Elena for many reasons, I don't want to go into all of them, but the main one is that she is someone in as much pain as he is, and someone who knows what he's going through. It must be an incredible relief to find someone that could possibly understand what it's like to lose someone they way that they have. Plus, right now in the beginning of the story, he finds her amusing and attractive.

It's important to remember that Elena still very much feels like Damon didn't save her, but took a choice away from her that she made. Just because Damon convinced her to see Alaric, doesn't mean her other problems are magically resolved. She's got a long way to go, but having someone by her side while she goes through this journey is going to make everything easier, as long as he's patient enough.

Let me know what you think! -Jackie-

Chapter 5

"Elena," he called through the bathroom door. "Don't do this. Don't withdrawal."

She could hear him as she sat, the hot water pounding against her back.

"My wife would take long baths. As time went on, they'd get longer and longer," he said through the door. "On one of her rare good days, she told me that the water completely numbed her, soothing a deep need within her to not exist."

Jeremy. His hair got too long. She and Jenna tried to get him to cut it. Ran after him with the sewing sheers. They laughed the three of them. But she didn't see. Neither of them saw his pain because if she saw it she couldn't leave Virginia.

"Elena," he cried desperately, toggling the door knob again.

He continued to bang on the door, calling her name. "I'll tear down this fucking door, Elena!"

The water turned cold. Ice cold. She didn't move, instead, she watched the water fork and stream around the rivets in the tub and into the drain. She shivered beneath the shower. The door blasted open. "Fuck!" he yelled, seeing her huddled beneath the water, hugging her knees.

Damon grabbed a large bath towel, shut the water off and threw it around her, carrying her out of the shower, cradling her in his arms. He lay her on the bed and rubbed her arms to warm her. "You're freezing," he muttered.

The touch. The warmth of his arms as he tried to revive her disarmed her. She slowly pulled the towel tighter around her and moved away from him. "I'm fine," she said, more to herself. "I was just lost in thought."

He gave her a look of incredulity. "You were catatonic. I banged on that door for twenty minutes and you wouldn't respond."

Twenty-minutes?

"We can go back to San Francisco. You don't have to do this," he said. "You need more time," he ran his hands through his hair as she turned to face him. "I shouldn't have pushed you to come."

Elena shook her head, wet drops from her hair fell onto the white duvet. "I didn't want to come," she explained, in a quiet voice, very unlike her own. "But if I didn't come now, I never would've come back."

"Then why…" he started to ask.

They sat face to face on the bed, the large white towel wrapped around her body. She placed her hands on his and squeezed. "Jenna used to say that it comes in waves. One day your fine and the next you can't get out of bed, or move from the shower. I'm sorry that I scared you," her eyes darted to the bathroom door. Shards of wood sprinkled the carpet. "Caroline is going to flip out when she sees that."

Damon's hand gently grasped Elena's chin, moving her line of vision so she was forced to look at him. "You were just released from the hospital for trying to end your life. If you're going to have a breakdown, do it in front of me. If you need an itch scratched or need to escape, I'll help you, but don't shut me out. I'm trying to help."

Her face flushed and water filled her eyes. Something that had been bugging her came to the surface. "I'm not your wife, Damon. I can't be the subject of your redemption arc because you feel responsible for what happened to her. I can't handle being treated as someone I'm not when I'm barely a version of myself."

His lips thinned, anger clouded his features. He dropped his hand and diverted his attention from Elena's eyes. "Believe me, Elena. I know you're not my wife."

She wasn't sure she believed him, because…. why? Why was he here? Why was even dealing with her? She was a mess. A complete psychotic mess.

He gazed at her, assessing her. Trying to figure out what she was thinking. "We've had breakfast together every day for two weeks. We go to the same lame group therapy. Even though you don't talk and when you do, you're snarky as hell, I like you. You're honest in ways other's aren't and yet you mystify me. Plus, you let me scratch your itch, which means our relationship just got a lot more interesting."

Elena thought about the plane. That was fun. Damn him. "That's never happening again."

Damon smirked. Relieved. "There she is!" he stood up and took out his phone. "What do you want to eat?"

She shook her head. "I'm not…"

"Cheeseburger it is," he interrupted. "Good thing I know you're not a vegetarian."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat. You haven't eaten since this morning. Go change and I'll change your bandages," he ordered.

Holding the top of the towel tightly, she slid off the bed and went to the bathroom so she could change.

"Leave the door open," he yelled.

"No," she replied, trying to shut the door, but it wouldn't close since he tried to burst through and broke the lock.

"I won't look," he replied. "Scouts honor."

Elena groaned in frustration as she tried, again, to shut the bathroom door, but it wouldn't close. Deciding to just leave it a crack open, she changed into a black tank top and sleep shorts. She emerged with the bandages in her hand and sat on the couch next to Damon. He took the wet bandages off of her and cut a new strip of gauze to place around her wrists. She watched his nimble hands work, placing the prescribed antiseptic cream on her wrists where the black stitches were.

"They're going to scar," she muttered beneath her breath.

He nodded. "The cuts were really deep, even the doctor was impressed."

"Well, I really meant what I did," she commented.

"I'm going to take the fact that you used the past tense form of the word _mean_ , as a progress."

He taped off one wrist and started on the next. Removing the wet gauze, patting her wrists dry, dabbing on ointment and wrapping it with a clean strip of gauze.

"How did my uncle _really_ sound when you called him? The truth," she asked. She didn't know what Damon told him or how Alaric was even functioning without Jenna. Although, if he knew Jenna was sick, he had time to prepare. That thought laid bitterly in the pit of her stomach.

Damon hesitated for a moment. "He was distant. Given his situation, it's understandable."

She wasn't sure what he'd say whens he saw him. She felt guilty, but also angry that he and Jenna kept this from her.

"Are you going to be okay going tomorrow? You don't have to go, you can stay here and hang out at the beach all day," she offered. "Or do whatever you like to do. Go to bars and drink bourbon…make Mickey Mouse pancakes…"

Damon taped up her other wrist but still held on. "If I didn't want to go, I wouldn't."

She nodded, accepting his answer. "What about your bars?"

"They'll survive," he replied. "But we might need to make a quick trip to check in on the one in D.C."

"We?" Elena scoffed.

"We," he stated. "I told you, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"That's both controlling and unrealistic," she said.

Damon pointed to the bathroom door to make his point. "You're not well, Elena and I can only imagine how much that has intensified since you've been back. If you want to stay and see your uncle and help hotel manager Barbie, then you need someone that will watch out for _you_."

She scowled, her anger rising. "You're the one that pushed me to come, and let's not forget that you abandoned me in the hospital. You saved me when I didn't want to be saved and then you left me. I had to take a fucking taxi home."

Damon sighed loudly. "We're back to this."

"Hell yes, we're back to this. Especially if you insist on watching me 24/7, like something out of a Hitchcock movie," she was yelling and it felt really really good.

"You have a death wish and I don't want you to die! How the fuck does that make me the bad guy?" He countered.

"Because whether I die or not should be my choice, Damon. Not yours."

"I'll never respect your choice to die," he said. "Because I don't think you're really the type of person that gives up without a fight and you haven't been fighting. You've been letting drama and tragedy that you cannot control affect your choices and who you are."

She stilled, but he kept on going.

"You're telling yourself that you've already died, so you might as well physically end it, but that's the cowards way out. You have the opportunity to change and make change," he said.

She grew cold. She didn't need to hear this. He was getting too close. He knew too much and was getting too comfortable. "Are you talking to me, or your dead wife?" She spat out.

Her words didn't phase him. He didn't show the slightest sign of anger or look like he was going to leave her and go back to his hotel room. "I'm talking to you, Elena," he said quietly.

There was a knock at the door. "That's probably room service," Damon said, getting up to answer the door.

They ate in silence, Damon staring straight at the television, while Elena stared at him. He wasn't angry? She didn't get it. What she'd said had been downright bitchy and cruel. He was more mad that she didn't want to eat her burger when it arrived. She was still picking at the fries and dipping them into ketchup, burger remained untouched. At this point, even looking at it made her feel sick.

She sighed, dropping a fry she'd picked up back on her plate. "I'm going to bed," she announced, getting up.

Damon didn't take his eyes off the television. Maybe he was mad. "Leave the door open," he replied.

She rolled her eyes, walking toward the bedroom.

"I saw that," he yelled after her.

She flipped him off and left the door open a crack, falling onto the bed, not bothering turning on the light.

 _Jenna was wearing a habit, with rosary beads hanging around her neck, holding a baby with rosy cheeks and cobalt eyes. The baby wouldn't stop crying. Elena was crying, begging the baby to stop crying. To stop wailing like it was about to die. It's tears created a storm of thunder and lightning. Jenna handed her the baby, placing it in her arms. The storm stopped. "You'll go to hell for what you've done," Jenna said in a voice that wasn't her own. But it sounded vaguely familiar._

"Elena!"

She woke with a start, covered in sweat. That fucking dream, so much like the one she'd had previously.

"Are you okay?"

She looked around to see Damon standing by her bed in running gear. He had her running kit out. "What are you doing?" she asked, eyeing the sports bra with suspicion.

"You need to let off steam before we see your uncle, we're going running."

Elena looked out the window. "But it's still dark. I can see the moon."

Damon raised his eyebrows. "How very observant of you. Aren't you usually walking home at this time?"

She groaned and fell back into her pillows, covering eyes with her arm.

"I'm not afraid to drag you out of this bed and put these clothes on you myself," Damon stated.

She turned to her side and groaned again. "Go away!"

He grabbed a leg by the ankle that was sticking out of the covers and started to pull her out of bed. She squealed and yelled. "Fine! Fine! I'll go."

He tossed her her clothes as she got out of bed.

A few minutes later she walked out of the bathroom in her running clothes. "I don't remember packing these," she said, tugging at her black shorts.

"You didn't," he replied, handing her her shoes.

She sat on the edge of the bed, putting them on. "I haven't gone running or biking in ages."

"You bike?"

She nodded, lacing up her shoes. "I used to go on hundred mile rides. They have an Athens to Savannah race in Georgia that I'd do."

He whistled. "That's quite a distance. Have you mountain biked?"

She shook her head, standing up. "You can think more clearly on the road. I'd just listen to music and pedal, without a real destination."

She grabbed her phone off of the nightstand and plugged in earbuds.

Damon frowned, watching her. "What are you doing?"

"I need music," she said, as if it was obvious, she looked at her wrists. "Do you have a sweatshirt I can borrow?"

"I thought we could talk," he replied, sounding a little offended.

She cocked an eyebrow. "I don't talk when I run."

"You don't talk at all," Damon muttered.

"Running isn't going to make me pour my soul to you," she said. "Besides, I can't run without music. It helps me think."

He shrugged and walked out of the room, she followed. Damon went into his luggage and pulled out a black zip up sweatshirt and handed it to her. "You don't need to cover the bandages up, we're running in the dark, no one will know."

She put the sweatshirt on and zipped it up, it looked like she was just wearing a sweatshirt with nothing underneath. The hem of the sweatshirt skimmed her thighs. "I'll know, Damon."

He nodded. "How far can you handle going?"

"Is that a challenge?" She headed out the door, spinning around to look at him.

"Let's make a bet," he suggested.

"Bet? What do I get when I win?" she smirked.

They walked down the lightly illuminated beige hallway together to the elevators. "Whoever gives up first and starts walking loses."

"Loser has to do one truth or dare," she said.

Damon stuck out his hand. "Deal."

Elena zipped up her phone in her pocket and shook Damon's hand. "Deal."

They ran in step on a path along the beach. Elena listened to her music for the first two miles until Damon started asking her questions about local places to visit. It wasn't until she said that locals don't really do the touristy things, that they are into water sports and leaving Virginia Beach to go to D.C., that caused her to turn off her music and started talking.

"I'd sneak out when I was fifteen and go to clubs in D.C." she said. "I was busted by my Dad coming back at five in the morning."

"How did he catch you?"

"He was going out for a run, just as I was climbing up the drain pipe to get back into my room. He literally said the words, _Your busted, Spiderman_ ," she remembered.

Damon laughed. "I hitchhiked to L.A. when I was sixteen and my brother ratted me out."

Elena scoffed. "What a jackass! Total violation of sibling code."

"I know, right?" Damon replied, grinning at her indignation.

"What's he doing now?" she asked.

They ran down the path, with the sun slowly coming up over the ocean, turning the sky into a watercolor of magenta and deep deep purples. Stars still dotted the sky, and the moon was a faint white crescent. Elena looked out at the view that she'd missed while Damon thought about his response.

"He's a US history professor at Stanford," Damon finally replied. "He liked school."

"Obviously," Elena commented. "You live so close, do you see him often?"

Damon shakes his head. "It's complicated and not worth talking about."

Damon's arm grazed Elena's as they ran, side by side, in step. Like they'd been running partners for years or had known each other for twice as long. Even though they'd covered close to seven miles, neither was winded. Conversation seemed to come easier when there was something to physically do.

"Caroline was a good friend?" He asked.

Elena wasn't quite sure how to respond. "She was cheerleading captain and head of every committee at VBHS. I think the only reason she was friends with me was because my family was known in the area and I didn't really fight her on anything she wanted to do."

Damon looked taken aback. "You, not fight back?"

"Her parents went through a divorce and it was rough on her. She's a good person. Overbearing and controlling, yes. But she means well."

"I'm shocked, Gilbert. This is a new side to you."

Her eyes widened. "You mean not suicidal and depressed?"

He coughed, causing him to stumble, trip over a crack in the sidewalk and fall. She barely caught him by the arm, softening his fall. "Damon!" she yelled as he fell completely on the ground.

He groaned, laughing as she tried to pull him up to his feet.

"I win!" she screamed. Elena let go of Damon's hand and did a little touchdown dance, wiggling her ass and raising her index finger in the air and bringing it down to her waist and back up, like she was in a disco.

Damon got to his feet and brushed sand off his shorts. "That's not fair, Gilbert. I fell."

"You stopped running first though and now you're walking," she replied.

He glared at her. "Cheater!"

Damon ran after her, Elena tried dodging him, but she wasn't fast enough, he grabbed her beneath the knees and flew her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. "Ah! Damon!"

Damon smacked her on the ass and ran with her flipped over his shoulder like he ran like that every day. She screamed and laughed while he chuckled.

"You are such a sore loser!" she cried.

"Keep saying things like that and I'll never let you down."

Elena was laughing so hard she started crying. She couldn't form words so she slapped his butt to let her down. Damon flipped her back over, holding onto her waist until she found her equilibrium. "I like that sound," he muttered.

She giggled. "What sound?"

His hands skimmed her waist as he steadied her. "You, laughing." he drew closer to her, his hands moving from her waist to her arms to her shoulders, one hand cupping her cheek. "It's a nice sound."

Elena wasn't laughing, she was looking at Damon's lips. They looked soft and for a moment she wondered what it would be like to press her lips to his. His eyes remained on hers, watching, waiting for her to make the fist move.

"On you left!" a biker yelled. They jumped out of the way to give the cyclist room on the path, breaking the shared moment in half.

"We should get back," Elena said. Damon looked at her longingly and then nodded silently in agreement.

They jogged back in silence, both refusing to look at each other.

"I choose dare," Damon said while they were in the elevator.

Elena stared at the closed doors. "We don't have to do it."

"A deal's a deal," he replied.

She sighed. It was like the last ninety minutes never happened and she was back on the other side of the bathroom door. "Not now. I can't think right now."

Elena walked ahead of Damon, opened the hotel room and went into her room to get ready to see Alaric. To say she was nervous to see Alaric would be the understatement of the century. She didn't know what to expect, except that he was expecting to see her in an hours time. Was he going to greet her with a warm tearful embrace or was he going to yell at her, she wasn't sure if she was comfortable with either scenario.

Elena dressed in dark wash skinny jeans, a worn white t-shirt, and a leather jacket to cover her wrists. She blew out her hair, wearing it wild and down and she decided to forgo the makeup because she was lazy and didn't care. She slipped on motorcycle boots and slung her black leather satchel over her shoulder.

Elena met Damon in the entryway. He greeted her by handing her a cup of coffee. "Thanks," she murmured, taking a sip. Black and dark, just the way she liked it.

Damon wearing low slung jeans and a forest green henley handed her a shopping bag. "Orange juice," he replied. He picked up a pink box, Elena guessed was donuts.

They started to walk out of the room, but Elena stopped Damon. She had to ask him again. "Are you sure you're okay with this? You're stepping in the middle of family drama and I don't want you to come just because you feel like you have to."

He sighed, irritated. "I'm here because I want to be. I don't do things that I don't want to do, believe me."

"Fine," she said, walking out and towards the elevator. Damon followed holding the box of pastries and his coffee.

They arrived outside of a red brick mansion with a circular drive lined deep pink crape myrtle Lagerstroemia trees. Before they left the car, Damon turned toward her. "No matter what happens, know that you're trying and that's something."

She gave him an inquisitive look. "What an odd thing to say."

He ended the conversation he started by getting out of the car and opening her door. She got out and together they walked up the front steps to the porch. Elena took a deep breath and rang the bell. She could hear children yelling in the background and Alaric saying, "Stay in the family room while I see who's at the door."

Elena turned toward Damon. He wore a look of guilt, but held Elena firmly by the shoulders, forcing her to stay where she was.

The door opened. Alaric was wearing a blue paisley sheet tied around his shoulders like a cape and a yellow crown made out of construction paper. His reaction to Elena did not match what he was wearing. "What are you doing here?" he asked, not letting her in.

Her eyes grew wide. The shock of him not knowing she was coming hit her with full force. What was she doing there?

"We brought you donuts and orange juice," Damon piped in, holding up the pink box like he was Vanna White.

Alaric didn't take his eyes off of Elena. "You ruined her, you know. She tried so hard with you and you blew her off every chance that you got."

Elena's mouth dropped open. "Alaric, I didn't know Jenna was sick."

"She didn't want to tell you. She was worried about you. Worried you'd go off the deep end if you knew her time was limited," he said angrily.

Tears began to fill Elena's eyes. "Then you should've told me, Alaric. YOU didn't tell me, so how can you be mad right now when I was left out of the loop."

Alaric opened the door a little wider so he could stand more comfortably in front of it. "She tried to tell you Elena, but you wouldn't answer your fucking phone. She was a mess after your last conversation. Always worried about Elena and never thinking about herself," he said.

Elena bit her lip, fighting back tears. "She could've emailed me or something. I was busy, you know my work schedule is crazy."

"A week before she died she emailed you every day," he said. "But you didn't check your email because you're so busy at the diner, right? God, Elena. I was willing to forgive you for not knowing because she didn't tell you and I was respecting her wishes. But you didn't come to the funeral. You missed Jenna's funeral, Elena. The Aunt that put her life on hold so she could take care of you and Jeremy. Where have you been?"

Elena tugged at the sleeves of her jacket. "I….I…..I….I'm sorry."

Alaric frowned, looking at her like she was a stranger, not the girl that was a bridesmaid at his wedding. "You couldn't even be there for your cousins, who are missing their mom. I could never say this because Jenna would've killed me, but you are so selfish, Elena Gilbert. Caught up in your own grief and forgetting about everyone else. We are all in pain and suffering, but you couldn't get past your own to be there for someone else. You should've never come back and you certainly will never be welcome again."

He slammed the door shut in her face. She spun around. Stunned. The palms of her hands went up to her forehead. "What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?" she repeated over and over again. Her voice cracked and horse. Her face crumpled, tears dripped down her cheeks to her chin and onto the grass.

"Elena," Damon said, dropping the box and grocery bag on the ground, trying to calm her down. Trying to bring her back to the present.

Elena looked at him and glared. She hit him hard with both hands, pushing him away. "Why did you bring me here? You lied! YOU LIED!"

Damon let her hit him, unaffected by her fists.

"Why is this happening? What did I do Damon? I ruined everything. I ruin everything."

Damon held her by the elbow, trying to control her breakdown.

"What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?" She repeated like a mantra, over and over again. She spun away from him, walking down the road.

He chased after her. "Elena!"

She continued to walk down the circle drive and past their car, repeating the words like they gave her comfort. Damon ran up behind her and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back towards the car, practically carrying her. "Come on," he said.

She didn't fight him, she let him hold her. "What did I do, Damon?" she asked, really wanting to know. "What did I do? What did I do?"

"You acted like a human being, that's what you did," he said into her hair, carrying her back to the car.

"I'm a monster," she said in a hushed whisper as if it was a secret she chose that moment to spill. "I'm a monster."

They were at the car, Damon placed her in the passenger seat and belted her in. "I'll be right back."

He left, locking her in the car and came back with donuts and juice. Her head was drooped against the glass window, looking out, but not at anything specific, just looking.

Damon opened the car door and got in, placing the items in the back seat, he started the car.

Elena stayed still in that position and no matter what Damon said, she wouldn't move or look at him. Finally frustrated, he pulled the car over into an empty parking lot. "Elena, look at me."

Her head pressed against the glass. Her eyes looked empty and haunted.

"Elena, look at me, look at me," he demanded.

Her eyes remained focused on a family walking down the sidewalk toward the beach. A mother rolling a stroller with towels and sunscreen sticking out of her diaper bag. Holding a toddler wearing bright red swim trunks and a blue and white stripped shirt's hand. Protecting him from running off and escaping her protective eye.

"Dare," Damon said. "I choose dare."

She turned to him, her face full of angry surprise. "A game isn't going to fix this, Damon. You lied. This is your fault. If you'd just minded your own business, this would've never happened."

He glared at her, matching her intensity. "You'd be in the ground, Elena. That'd be it for you."

She toggled the door handle and leapt out the moment it gave, catching Damon by surprise. She didn't look back, she just ran. She sprinted across the parking lot and ran and ran and ran until she found a place to go. People were making their way to an early lunch, Elena sprinted down a strip of stores in a touristy part of town. She found a bar and grill open and walked in.

"Elena Gilbert," said a familiar voice. Shit.

She looked up into the sea blue eyes of a former friend. Some even speculated that they dated, but he'd never been her type. He was too nice. Too perfect. "Hi Matt," she said, sitting down at the bar.

His brows furrowed. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be okay when you give me a shot of Grey Goose," she said, shortly. If she was kind, she'd have to talk, and she didn't want to make polite conversation, she wanted to forget. Needed distraction. Comfort in something that became routine.

He held his hands up in the air in mock surrender, choosing not to comment on the early hour or the fact that she had obviously been crying. "Coming right up."

He placed the shot in front of her and when she went to grab it, part of her sleeve came up with her reach, showing part of her bandage. His eyes widened. "I should call Alaric," he said.

Elena slammed her hand on the bar counter. "I'm an adult, Matt, not some sixteen year old kid on the other side of your counter. You call him and I'll tell Caroline Forbes that I made you ask her to Homecoming our sophomore year."

When she saw that he was relenting, she downed her shot, allowing the cool clear liquid burn her throat. She glanced around the bar, tourists were trickling in to eat burgers and wings or drink local beer. She'd have to wait in order to get the anonymity she needed in that moment. The desire to do something stupid and reckless consumed her. She stayed at the counter and ordered a gin and tonic with lime.

Warm hands held onto both shoulders and a body pressed up against her back. Hard. Her head instinctively leaned back as the hands grazed her arms sending tingles up her spine and he leaned in and whispered softly. "I knew you'd be at the only bar open at 11:00."

She looked up into Damon's grey blue eyes and immediately tried to push him off of her and tried to escape, but he held her in place. Too strong and too firm. "Let go of me," she breathed.

"No," he said. "Your coming with me."

He steered her off of the stool and towards the back of the restaurant, unable to fight off his grip on her upper arms. She stumbled on her way, but he held her upright, making sure she was able okay before walking again. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

He opened up a bathroom door and locked it behind him before flicking on the light. She darted toward the door, but he caged her in, placing both arms on the wall behind her. He gazed down at her, so close, she could smell coffee and mints on his breath. "This is what you were waiting for, right? Someone to come along and screw you so you'd hate yourself more than you already do?"

Her breathing quickened, her hand shifted slightly so she could unlock the door without being noticed.

"I knew exactly where you'd be because I know you Elena. I know your pain and I know what your next move is," he said relocking the door and leaning down even further.

His forehead touched hers and he inhaled. It was intoxicating. In that moment, all she could see was him. All she could smell was him. "Dare," he commanded, centimeters from her lips. "Tell me, Elena, what do you want me to do?"

He leaned in even further, his body almost flush against her's, consuming her thoughts about anything that had happened that morning.

"Kiss me," she demanded, eyeing his lips.

His eyebrow quirked up and he did that eye thing she both hated and loved. "Where?"

Her eyes flicked down. "Say it," he replied.

"South of the equator," she said, her voice husky and full of longing. She wasn't sure if it was for Damon or for her usual itch.

He smirked, his hands grazing every curve of her body as he lowered himself to his knees. She leaned against the wall for support as he deftly unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down. He inhaled and just his breath on her sensitive flesh left her trembling. She needed this. His hands skimmed her waist teasingly before pulling down the waistband and barely brushing the apex of her thighs with his lips. He bit her. It didn't hurt, but it caused her to cry out and her hands to lean on his head for support. She ran her hands through his silky hair as he sucked, licked and worshipped her olive skin. He hadn't even touched her sensitive bud and she was already at his mercy, feeling tension slowly curl up inside her, dying for release.

"Damon," she moaned over and over like it was a song. God, she needed this. Then, he sucked. His hands wrapped around the curve of her ass as he lapped at her, swirling his expert tongue until she arched and bucked into him. His nose rubbing up against her clit as his tongue went deeper and deeper until she came with a muffled cry.

He trailed kisses from the back of her knees up her thigh and waist before pulling up her panties and then slowly pulling up her jeans, zipping them up and buttoning them. He held onto her waist, steadying her.

"Better?" he asked.

She licked her lips, nodding. "Hmmm….hmmm."

"Good, because we have to be at your high school in an hour," he replied.

She groaned. "I'm still mad at you."

He sighed. "I know."

"Are you even sorry?" she asked.

He shook his head, adamantly. "Not even a little bit."

"I'm going to need another shot before we go," she muttered.

He looked at her lips, and leaned down for a kiss. Elena shifted, dodging him. "Same," he replied, frustrated. "Something very strong."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: In the last chapter, Elena confronted Alaric with the hope of a welcome reunion, only to realize Damon lied about Alaric wanting to see her and Alaric threw some very harsh realities of the ramifications of her actions in her face. He is still mourning Jenna and doesn't want to see someone who he feels created added stress to Jenna's life. Damon obviously had good intentions, because he just wanted her to confront something in her life and deal with it, instead of hiding out in her apartment and participating in her destructive and isolating routine. Right now, Damon is just trying to be there for her in any way that he can, whether it's to scratch an itch so she won't turn to someone else who might take her down a darker path, or force her to confront the only family she has left. However, it is like Elena said, on some level, he's projecting, he abandoned her in the hospital after saving her, and lied to get her to her hometown. Even though he's helping her, Elena is wary of letting anyone in or trusting them, especially after Damon came into her life the way that he did, but on some level, she trusts him or is starting to because she has no one else. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please let me know what you think. -Jackie-

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Remind me why we're doing this," she said as they walked into her old high school gym.

Damon paused to look at a picture of Elena's cheerleading team in a glass case with a trophy and pom poms. "Do you still have the uniform?"

She pulled him by the arm, dragging him down the tiled hallway decorated in posters for upcoming games and various school events. "Take me back to San Francisco. I'll put it on and even do the splits for you."

Damon stopped in his tracks. "You can still do the splits?"

She spun around and stood in front of him, so she could look at him square in the eye. "I can even do a back handspring."

Damon's eyes glazed over with what could only be described as lust. "I think I can get us a flight back today."

"There you are!" Caroline called from behind them. Elena and Damon both cursed.

She ignored them. "Your group is waiting for you in the gym." She handed Damon and Elena clipboards with a roster and expectations.

Damon and Elena both looked at the clipboard and looked back at Caroline. "We're in charge of food and gift bags?" Damon asked skeptically.

"We're in charge of a group of kids?" Elena asked with more skepticism.

Caroline's head bounced up and down, her golden curls moving with equal enthusiasm. "Yes! I have a list of local vendors and the kids are really excited to meet you."

Elena groaned. Damon coughed to cover up her obvious indignation.

Caroline didn't seem to notice or care because she continued to talk. "The fair is on Friday, so today you should make sure all the volunteers and kids have an afternoon snack. We also need posters to display throughout the community. You should also start buying items for the gift bags."

Elena's eyes narrowed at the list. "Is there a theme? You usually have a theme for these things."

"Of course I do. The theme is Happily Ever After."

Elena snorted. "Fairytales?"

Caroline looked slightly ruffled and started flattening out her floral swing skirt with her free hand. "Everyone loved a good fairy tale, Elena."

"Princesses love fairytales. Little girls who's moms and dads tucked them in at night love fairytales. Boys who want to ride in on a white horse and save the damsel in distress like fairytales. But not _everyone_ likes fairytales," she stated with such conviction, Caroline visibly shrank under her words, something that had never happened in front of Elena before. Elena had hardened in the years that she'd seen Caroline. What was once funny, was now trivial and what was once important, seemed selfish and even more unrealistic.

Caroline's eyes narrowed in defense. "Should the theme be sullen and withdrawn, because that seems to be your current aesthetic?"

Damon walked in between the two girls, who were currently glaring at each other. "Well, I for one, love fairytales," he looked at Elena. "Let's meet the kids you're going to torture for the next few hours."

Damon had to physically guide Elena to the gym by holding onto the small of her back. She was still seemingly angry at Caroline for reasons she wasn't willing to admit or own up to. Once inside the gym, a very tiny woman with brilliant red hair in a milkmaid braid approached Damon and Elena. "I'm Lacy, Caroline's assistant, you must be Damon and Elena," she said, handing them a sign that read Beauty and the Beast in curly script and a long green vine of red roses decorated the boarder. "You're the Beauty and the Beast group. The kids will be should here in five minutes. Just hold up this sign and they'll come to you."

Elena gave her a knowing gaze. "Caroline's latest minion," she said. "Word of advice, when Caroline starts lecturing you on the proper way to use a paintbrush, Principal Hale keeps "edibles" in the top left drawer of his desk. She'll think they're chocolate covered coffee beans, and she'll calm the fuck down."

Lacy regarded Elena thoughtfully. "I'll keep that in mind."

Damon sidled up to Elena, wrapped a hand around her waist and leaned down to her ear. "Thanks for the tip."

She smirked while Lacy looked oblivious at Elena and Damon. "I've got to go check….something. Kids'll be here shortly."

Lacy scattered, leaving Damon and Elena alone by a table where they were supposed to pick up their name tags. "I'm not wearing a name tag," Elena stated.

Damon put his name tag on the shirt underneath his leather jacket. "I'll wear it for you," and with that, he took off the sticker on Elena's name tag and placed it over his heart, patting it twice to make sure it stuck.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Kids started to arrive and went to various groups that had the name of fairytales. Elena half-heartedly held up her sign with one hand while her other hand was on her hip. Damon stood beside her, amused.

A group of five kids approached Damon and Elena, each wearing a shirt that said Virginia Beach Kids Club. The shirts had a bunch of kids hand prints on it with various signatures from donors, including the hotel Caroline worked at. Elena took a wary step back as they approached. "Who are you?" asked a girl, no older than eight.

Elena sized up the munchkin. "Your worst nightmare."

The girl didn't seem impressed. "I only have good dreams."

Elena's eyebrows rose, noticing a name tag the little girl had placed on her stomach. "Be sure to check under your bed before you go to sleep tonight, Hazel."

Hazel's chin quivered and her eyes became glassy. Damon crouched down so he could look Hazel in the eye. "She's joking, Hazel. Elena likes to scare people."

"That's not nice," Hazel said, ready to burst into tears.

Damon looked expectantly at Elena, who shrugged. Damon pulled something out of his pocket that Elena had only seen on a few occasions. It was a Mickey Mouse keychain. "This is a special talisman. It keeps away bad dreams and monsters. You can borrow it, but I'm going to want it back."

He handed her the charm and she looked at it, the silver ears twinkling in the light of the gym. She clasped it in her fist and nodded. "I'll keep it safe."

Her tears seemed to dry up. The other kids regarded Elena with apprehension. Elena ignored their looks by referring to her clipboard. "Our first task is to get snacks for everyone. I know of a grocery store we can walk to and pick out some healthy snacks. According to Caroline, the snacks can't contain any gluten, sugar or nuts….. which doesn't leave us with a lot of options."

Damon looked around at all the volunteers and kids in various groups getting ready to paint or help put together various booths for the carnival. He then grabbed the list out of Elena's hands and scanned it. "I have a better idea," he said, flipping through the papers. "I need to make a phone call, you guys go around and introduce each other."

Elena gave him a hopeless and anxious look. "Don't fucking leave me!" She hissed.

The kids laughed. "You said a bad word!" They yelled, garnering the attention of other volunteers.

Elena froze and looked at all of them, her face flushed red. "No, I didn't! I said fudging."

Damon chuckled, shaking his head as he walked off, ignoring the venomous look she threw him.

Elena looked around at all the kids. "Okay," she started. "Introduce yourselves."

A boy with warm brown eyes stepped forward. "Let's stand in a half circle and introduce ourselves like we do at the club," he suggested. The kids automatically moved in a half circle. Elena stood awkwardly next to the eleven-year-old that took over. "My name is Owen and I like oatmeal raisin cookies and outdoor sports."

The kids all proceeded to say, "Nice to meet you, Owen."

Hazel, who still had Damon's keychain clasped in her palm, spoke next. "My name is Hazel and I like hot dogs and hula hoops."

In a chorus, the kids welcomed Hazel. Elena started panicking. What did she like that started with the letter 'e'? Eagles? No. Earth? No, super cheesy, the kids would laugh at her. Elmo? No, too young for this crowd.

The next girl that stepped forward had long black hair in braids with different colored beads at the end of every bead. They clicked together as she stepped forward, the noise made her smile. Her smile. Her smile reached her eyes and made them sparkle. "My name is Sabrina and I like singing and soccer!"

The kids chanted their welcome. The quietest of the group thus far stepped forward. Her hair was down and messy, Elena was tempted to take out a brush and run it through her long brown hair. "Ummm," she started. "My name is Amy and I like being alone and August."

She liked being alone. Alone at her was something haunting about a nine year old wanting to be alone, liking it, even.

"August?" Elena asked, before the kids started their usual chorus.

Amy turned and looked at her, inspecting Elena with her larger than life green eyes. "My mom's birthday is in August. She's happy and we go for ice cream."

Elena's eyes softened. "I like cookie dough ice cream."

Her eyes widened. "You do? That's my favorite."

Elena nodded with a wink while all the kids said, "Nice to meet you, Amy!"

The next kid to step forward was standing on Elena's left side, meaning she was next. He was the kid that called Elena out for swearing. He had a swagger as he stepped forward that made Elena roll her eyes. This kid was clearly the popular one of the club. Elena knew the type, vocal and a natural performer that commanded attention. "As you all know, my name is Tripp and I like talking and talking."

Elena scoffed, giving him a skeptical look. "Your turn!" Hazel said.

Elena straightened and thought. What did she like? She couldn't remember what she decided moments before, so she just went with the first thing that came to mind. "My name is Elena and I like eggplant and emojis."

Tripp gave her a skeptical look. "You like the eggplant emoji?"

"Yes, she does," Damon replied with a knowing smile, sidling up next to her. Elena glanced up at him, amused.

The kids all looked at each other, not quite clear what was going on, and then weakly chanted. "Nice to meet you, Elena."

"My name is Damon, I like dominating and donuts," he said with a wink, not taking his eyes off of Elena.

"Dominating?" Hazel asked.

Owen answered for Damon. "To dominate means to rule over. I dominate in basketball."

Damon gave him a high five, and Elena rolled her eyes, knowing that was not the specific kind of dominating he was talking about.

The group chanted a welcome to Damon, who was loving the attention.

"So, should we go get the snack?" Elena suggested.

Damon shook his head. "It'll be here in fifteen minutes. We should start researching things we can put in the gift bags."

Elena gave him an inquisitive look. "What did you order?"

His eyes twinkled with mischief. "You'll see soon enough, Gilbert."

The kids watched Damon and Elena interact with curiosity. "Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?" Hazel asked.

Elena was really not liking this kid. "No," she immediately replied.

She caught Damon in the corner of her eye winking at Hazel, making her giggle. "You are!" she squealed.

"No, we're not," Elena replied, sounding very much like a petulant child. The group laughed. She looked down at her list. Caroline had already made a separate list entitled, Elena's List, which listed all the items for the gift bag and where to purchase them. Why didn't Caroline just buy these things herself? She just loved giving people the illusion of creative freedom. Well fuck that.

"Once the snacks arrive, we need to go to the mall," she stated.

After hearing the word "mall" the kids screamed. Hearing the noise, Caroline walked over with a bullhorn in her hand, used to gather groups and blare out instruction. "Elena, shouldn't you be out getting healthy snacks?"

Just then, cheerful bell music started blaring a nostalgic and familiar tune. "What's that?" Caroline demanded.

Damon bounced on his heels of his boots, grinning. Elena put together what he did, grabbed the bullhorn from Caroline's hand and stepped onto a nearby chair. "Good Afternoon, Everyone! An ice cream truck is waiting for you in the parking lot to take your snack order. Please go out as a group and eat on the play yard."

The kids cheered and started filing up by group to go outside. Caroline looked furious. Elena smirked at her and hopped off the chair so she could lead the group outside. When they walked outside, she saw four ice cream trucks lined up, already taking kids orders. "You're a genius," Elena whispered to Damon.

"Never in my life did I think you'd actually admit that," he replied back, smugly.

"You pissed off Caroline by doing something she can't really get mad at," she argued. "I'll even admit that it's a brilliant move."

"There's also the part where I did it to make these kids happy."

"Oh, well….there's that too," she muttered, though she wasn't really thinking about them.

Damon shook his head and started walking towards the trucks. Elena chased after him. "So, are these the kinds of trucks that can sell a girl a dime of something fun?"

He turned around just as she caught up. "You can't be serious."

She lifted her hands up in the air and shrugged. "And if I was?"

"I'd tell you there are kids around and we're spending the afternoon with five of them," he paused and smirked, his eyes twinkling. "But when they leave…."

Hazel walked up to Damon and Elena holding a red popsicle. "What happened to your hand?"

Elena had completely forgotten about making sure her wrist was completely covered. Her jacket must've bunched up. She pulled the sleeves down and looked into the young girl's inquiring eyes. "It's just a scratch."

Damon crouched down to Hazel's height. "Hazel, could you help me pick out an ice cream flavor?"

She nodded, completely smitten by Damon's charm and completely distracted. Damon and Hazel ordered from one of the trucks when Elena felt a tug on her sleeve. She looked down to see Amy holding a partially melted ice cream cone. "I got you cookie dough," she said, handing Elena the cone.

Elena looked at the cone for a long time before taking it. It looked as though Amy had dropped the second scoop of ice cream and tried to put it back on. "Yum," Elena murmured, lifting it in the air.

"Can't say yum until you eat it," Amy said, like Elena was the silliest person in the world.

Elena thought about telling the kid the truth, that she didn't want to eat something that looked as though it's been partially eaten, returned and resold. Plus, she thought she saw a piece of grass in it and not the good kind.

She looked for a part of the cone that seemed okay and took a lick. "Yummy!" she said, then when the kid didn't look satisfied yelled, "Look, I think that truck is still giving away Princess Pops!"

Just as Amy turned around, Elena threw the cone in a nearby trash. "I saw that," Damon whispered into her ear. He had an ice cream sandwich in his hand, which Elena immediately took a bite of and handed back to him.

"Shut up," she mumbled, swallowing the treat.

Once the kids had eaten, Damon and Elena took one of the club vans to the mall. They spend the afternoon looking for items like crowns, wants, knight helmets and swords or anything that fit the Happily Ever After theme, that could be ordered in bulk. Damon and Elena took the kids inside their final stop, an old fashioned toy store that was donating a number of items as prizes for the event. According to Caroline, they were supposed to pick up some of the prizes for best costume and and game stands that the fair was supposed to have and pick up some plastic crowns.

Owen came up to Damon with a Nerf gun. "Damon, do you think this would be a good prize?"

Elena rolled her eyes. Since Damon had gotten the ice cream trucks as a treat, the kids have regarded him with hero status. The boys worshipped him and the girls constantly giggled around him, except Amy, which was one of the reasons Elena liked her so much. Amy had taken to standing at Elena's side at all times.

Elena knew Damon couldn't say no, so she had to draw the line at premium Nerf guns running at $50 a piece. Totally unrealistic to buy in bulk, but she knew Damon would actually buy a hundred of them if it made Owen happy. "Owen, we're sticking to dollar bin items," she replied.

"But dollar bin items suck," he replied.

Damon gave her a pouty face. "Yeah, Elena, Dollar bin items suck."

Owen laughed and the rest of the kids followed. Elena looked at the dollar bin. The toys in there did suck. The crowns were horrible. She put a gold plastic princess crown with bright pink plastic rocks all over it on Damon's head. Now the kids were laughing at him.

"You're right, the dollar bin items suck," she replied, shaking her head in disappointment at Damon's crown. To his credit, he didn't look like he cared at all and wore the crown with pride. The girls in the group still sighed at the sight of the cheap piece of plastic on his head.

Amy tugged Elena's jacket. Elena looked down at her. "What's up, kid?"

Amy rubbed her nose and Elena immediately wished she'd let go of her jacket. Gross. Her hands were still sticky from the popsicle. "What if…" she looked up at a display of superhero figurines, completely caught off guard and distracted.

Elena snapped her fingers in the kids face. "Hey, kid, you were saying something."

Amy giggled. It was a soft and light giggle that might have warmed Elena's heart the slightest bit. "We could make flower crowns!"

Elena looked down at the list Caroline gave her. She specifically wanted two-hundred crowns from this toy store, but the kids were right, these toys did suck. They were cheap and they'd been given cheap shit their entire life and told to deal with it. There was a happy medium without breaking the bank, Elena knew it.

She bit her lip, thinking and looked up at Damon who seemed amused. He was still wearing the fucking crown. "Let's get the things already put on hold for the fair and go to a craft store. I have an idea."

They were on their way out of the mall, each kid holding a bag of items they'd purchased and someone's hand, when Elena saw Alaric walking with his kids. Her stomach twisted. They'd cross paths, there was no way he wouldn't see her. She decided to try something, thinking he had Meredith and Jack with him, so he'd have to talk to her.

"Alaric!" she called. "Ric!"

He turned in her direction, looked her directly in the eye and looked forward. She could hear Meredith ask him who that was. Meredith and Jack didn't even recognize her. "She's no one, sweetie," Alaric told her. Like that, they were gone. Elena hadn't realized she stopped walking until Amy tugged on her sleeve.

"You look sad," she commented, drawing out the _a_ sound in sad.

Elena tried to find a reassuring smile, but was sure it looked like a grimace. "Sometimes, it's okay to be sad."

That honest answer seemed to satisfy Amy. "When my mom is sad, I make her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with extra raspberry jam."

Elena's eyes narrowed in concern. "That's very kind of you. Did your mom teach you how to make flower crowns?"

Amy shook her head. "My older sister did. She goes to high school and runs a lot."

"Well, it was a very good idea," Elena said.

Amy's eyes widened. "Are we going to make flower crowns?"

Elena nodded. "We're going to make a lot of things. I hope you're good at making those crowns because we have to make about a hundred."

Amy nodded so vigorously, her hair fell in her face and stuck to her lips. Damon had to pick up the bag she'd dropped and tried to catch Elena's eye. There was something she saw in that moment that she was almost ready to grasp, but it went away as quickly as it came.

When they arrived back at school with all of their bags and found an empty classroom to work in. They'd purchased wooden cut outs of crowns with sticks attached that they could paint and decorate with fake flowers and ribbon. Elena insisted they buy three hundred chopsticks because they could easily be turned into wants with hot glue and leather rope and cherry wood paint. While Damon bought hundreds of items, Elena went into some of the stores nearby and asked for donations.

They were small stores she knew Caroline wouldn't have thought of. An old fashioned candy store that she grew up going to donated dozens of pounds of unique candy, a bookstore where Jenna had her first book signing donated children's fairytale books and to Elena's delight, stacks of biographies of famous inventors and other influential people. She even convinced a local theatre to donate costumes for all the kids who volunteered to wear. It was as though a previous life was temporarily taking control of her body and she wasn't sure if she liked it.

"We have a lot of work to do, so don't forget to come in an old shirt tomorrow, because you're going to get messy!" Elena told the kids.

"Alright!" Owen said. Elena was still wary of Owen, he was a little too smart for his age.

Damon unpacked their supplies while Elena walked the kids back to the gym so they could go back to the club.

Amy hung back while the other's ran to the bus so they were sure they'd sit next to their friends on the way back. "Are you gunna be back 'morrow?"

Elena crouched down. "Kid, we have a lot of work to do."

It wasn't an answer and Amy knew it, so she wrapped her arms around Elena's neck. Elena froze. "You have to come back," she whispered.

Elena felt trapped like she was suffocating, as if the day came crashing in on all sides. These kids were starting to look up to her or just regard her with some authority and she couldn't handle it. Elena was about to pull her off when Amy let go and ran toward the bus.

Elena stood up, feeling uneasy. This kid was starting to depend on her, that wasn't good. She'd be sure to keep her distance from Amy tomorrow, or maybe she wouldn't come back. She could explain her plan to Caroline and Elena was even willing to pay someone to take her place. She could probably find a high school student that wanted to make extra cash.

An older woman with long wavy grey hair, a flowery dress that flowed around her ankles and long colorful beads around her neck, walked over to Elena. "I'm Laura Wheeler, I run the camp. You must be Elena Gilbert," she said in a thick southern accent.

She didn't give Elena a simple handshake, she gave her a hug. Elena was so sick of hugs and people in general. Actually, at the moment she wanted to go to a bar and then take a red eye back to San Francisco. When Laura let go of the hug, probably after Elena didn't hug back, she held Elena by the shoulders and tried to look into her eyes and read her. It wasn't subtle, she was actually twisting her head as if she could penetrate her mind. Elena needed to shut down this hippy voodoo quickly. "I've got to go. I just helped out for the day, I have a plane to catch."

No niceties, just straight business.

Laura had the nerve to give Elena a genuine smile. "You know, Amy doesn't talk to anyone. She opened up to you and that is a big step for her."

Elena didn't allow herself to register Laura's words. "Like I said, I have to go."

Laura nodded. "See you tomorrow, Elena."

Elena turned around to leave and practically ran into Caroline. Dammit. "You didn't get anything I asked."

"Caroline, it'll be fine."

She shook her head. "Don't let me down, Elena Gilbert. You've already let this whole town down once."

"Because I left?"

"You left with a fire blazing to smithereens behind you."

"Metaphors aren't really your thing, Caroline. Remember your senior english grade from Mrs. Combs?"

Caroline scoffed. "You said you'd help, not create more problems for me."

"You bullied me into helping, like you've always done and I fell right into your trap. I guess we both couldn't escape high school."

Elena walked away, knowing she'd never come back.

"We're leaving tonight," she told Damon when she entered the classroom.

"I'm having fun, so I'm going nowhere," he replied, sitting at the teacher's desk with both feet up on the mahogany desk.

"Then you can stay," she said, leaving the classroom.

Elena made it fifty feet down the hallway before she realize she'd left her purse with her phone on the desk next to Damon's feet. She sighed, actually contemplating if it was worth going back for until she realized her license, apartment keys and wallet were in there. She turned around to go back and when she opened the door, she saw Damon in the exact position, except her purse had been slung around the back of the chair he was currently sitting on.

"Thought you might be back," he said casually.

"Can't fly back to San Fran without my purse," she commented, walking over to retrieve it, but Damon stayed firmly in place making her purse unreachable.

"Can't fly back to San Fran without me," he retorted.

A single eyebrow shot up in the air. "I'm perfectly capable of flying back on my own."

"Come here," he said, waving her over with a single finger.

"No….why?" She was uneasy, not sure what he had planned.

"Come here, Elena," he repeated.

She threw him a skeptical gaze and walked forward for the mere purpose of getting her purse, or at least, that's what she told herself. Damon had that look in his eye, the one that tended to make her lower abdomen pool with a combination of lava and need. He clasped her wrists before she could grab her purse, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"You looked cute today," he commented.

Elena threw him a glare, which caused her nose to scrunch, frustrated that she couldn't reach her purse. "Cute?"

"Yeah, like a confused little kitten, not knowing whether to play with the ball of yarn or be irritated by it."

"What's with all the metaphors today?"

"So adorable," he commented, clearly enjoying himself. He had her trapped and she knew it.

He clasped her wrists even tighter. It didn't hurt, it felt different good, like he was trying to keep her bandages in place, applying pressure to the wound. "Just give me my purse," she pleaded. "I need to go."

His gaze raked her body, selfishly inspecting her. Taking his time. "Feeling itchy, Elena?"

Her eyes narrowed. "And what do you think you could do? You've fulfilled your quota of nefarious favors, I like my men once and anonymous. I've already broken the rules twice with you."

Eyes glinting, he drew her eyes to the desk. "Rules? I'd bend you over this desk and fuck you, maybe even have fun with a ruler."

Her face turned crimson.

He let go of one of her wrists and placed it over his mouth in mock surprise. "I made Little Miss Bathroom-Stall blush? Is this what happens when offered alternative flat surfaces?"

"You didn't seem to mind the bathroom stall earlier this morning," she retorted.

"I'm for anything that involves you, vulnerable," he replied.

Something snapped. Elena broke free from his grasp and wrenched her purse away from him and made her way to the door, but Damon caught up with her, keeping the classroom door closed and her trapped beneath both of his arms, caged in. Elena looked warily in every direction, trying to think of a way out of this city and away from quiet kids with big eyes and away from Damon Salvatore.

"What makes you think I wouldn't say that I like vulnerable Elena?" he says in a confident whisper. "I think there's more to you than this tough girl act. I think that beneath all the sorrow and self hatred, is a person who deeply cares because it is only when we care that we can feel pain and you are in pain."

She stuck up her chin and shook her head. "You don't know me, Damon. You don't know what I've done," tears started welling up in her eyes, threatening to fall. She would not cry in front of Damon again, she was tired of constantly crying and crying and feeling upset and dealing with this sort of in-her-face shit. She jutted out her chin further. "I'm broken, unfixable. Go back to San Francisco and forget about me."

"And then what would become of you?"

Her brows actually furrowed. What would become of her? She'd probably lost her job, so she'd have to get another one but she had plenty of money to get by for the time being. Would she end up right back where she started a month ago? Going to group and having late night trysts?

"The fact that you can't answer that is the reason you should stay. I saw life in you today, for the briefest of moments, you forgot you're supposed to be miserable."

She shook her head, biting her lip. "Alaric won't even acknowledge my existence."

"Then make him see you."

She thought about it, gazing transfixed on the green sleeves bunched up around his forearms. How does one have masculine forearms?

"Yeah," she finally said.

Elena's eyes followed up Damon's arms to his collar bone, neck, chin and lips. Velvet. So soft. So close she could smell his laundry soap. He leaned in. Her head tilted up. And then she looked into his pale blue eyes that looked at her with such sincere hope and she ducked under his arm, taking him by enough surprise to open the door and walk down the hallway with her purse slung over her shoulder.

When they arrived at the hotel, the concierge Elena had met when they left that morning because she had to awkwardly lie about why there was shattered wood on the floor of her suite, stopped Elena as she and Damon walked through the marble lobby towards the elevator. "Frederick? Is there a problem? I said that you could just bill me for the door."

He shook his head. "A package arrived for you earlier. The courier said that it was very important that it be hand delivered."

"Package?" she looked at Damon. "Is this you?"

"Why would I send you a package?"

"I don't know, but you're weird enough to and no one else knows I'm here."

He scoffed. "You grew up here and a courier dropped it off, so it's probably local."

Short, confused Frederick had an uncomfortable look on his face. He was nervous and twitchy. Eager to please. "Right this way."

They followed him to the counter near check-in and he took out a perfectly white, wrapped package tied with white twine. It was more than just a pure white, it was a white reminiscent of the inside of a padded cell in an insane asylum. He name wasn't on it, just an orange sticky-note that said Elena's name. Frederick took off the sticky note and handed Elena the long rectangular box.

She warily took it, muttered a polite thanks to Frederick. "Please tell Ms. Forbes about the service!"

Elena couldn't help but laugh. Frederick was very eager. "I'll mention it."

He bowed, actually bowed, as they walked back to the elevators. Caroline had her annoying quirks that had only recently started to infuriate Elena, but it was apparent she'd told the staff to treat them well and they were very understanding about the door they broke.

Damon relieved the box from Elena's arms. "I wouldn't be surprised if Caroline had a gag-ball and a bull whip in her office," he said as they got in the elevator, drawing everyone's in the car's eyes.

Elena laughed. "And probably a few sets of hand-cuffs. Her mom is sheriff, after all."

When they reached the room, Damon placed the box on the dining room table and looked at her expectantly. "Going to open it?"

She nodded, and started untying the twine and taking off the white wrapping. There were flowers in the box, wrapped in white tissue, she pealed away the tissue and opened the box, letting out a hushed gasp. It was the white lilies she'd thrown away at the hospital, tied with a new black satin ribbon. The lilies were starting to brown and wilt at the edges and there was a card. It was the card she'd ripped up, except it was taped back together. " _Suicide is self-murder. 2. Matthew 5:21 "You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, 'You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.' "_

When she lifted the card to get a better look, something brownish-black and hairy caught her eye. Elena stared into the box, transfixed. There was a tarantula crawling beneath the stem.

"Elena, move!" Damon yelled. When she didn't move, he swiftly placed the lid back on the box.

"What was that?" he demanded.

"Karma," she muttered, still staring at the box. She knew she was getting what she deserved.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: Thanks for all the support. In the last chapter, Elena was slowly making progress and actually became invested in the fair project, which ended up scaring her because she's hesitant to do anything where someone relies on her. In the end of the chapter, the flowers and note from the hospital make a reappearance. Even though the way the message was sent was completely wrong and illegal, Elena's forced to see the consequences of her actions from all angles. She's dealing with the fallout from Alaric, and the town she left behind, where she had a history. Instead of pushing aside all this guilt she has, she's forced to face it and Damon has been right by her side the entire time she's had to face the pain she inflicted on herself and others. I hope you enjoy this chapter...let me know what you think. -Jackie-

 **Chapter 7**

"We're not calling the police," Elena tried to explain. They were still standing in the dining room, each watching the box like it was a ticking time bomb, or as in their case, a poisonous spider.

"Elena, I'm not one for calling the police, but someone just sent you dead flowers with a poisonous spider attached," Damon stated.

Elena shook her head. "Yes, but I know the sheriff personally and if we involve the police, she'll want to know why someone would do this and I'd have to explain _why_ , Damon."

"So, let me get this straight. You got these flowers in the hospital with that note and you have no clue who they could be from and you didn't think to tell me?"

Elena started pacing. "Now is not the time to lecture me, Damon. I thought it was an isolated incident because some religious nut job heard about what I did. I didn't think they'd also know where I am and I certainly didn't think they'd send me a spider who's bite will lead to massive tissue loss, leaving me to look like a zombie," she paused to glare at him. "Plus, there's the whole instance of you lying to me about my uncle wanting to see me, to get me to Virginia Beach so I could have some sort of revelation about my life and make amends for what I've done. So I wasn't exactly thinking about telling you something as lame as someone sending me flowers when I was in the hospital."

It was Damon's turn to glare at her. "The creepy biblical note, Elena. They're calling you a murderer."

Elena stopped in her tracks and faced Damon who wore a look of deep concern. "But I didn't kill myself or anyone else, so why am I being called a murderer?"

Damon threw his hands up in the air. "Who knows? Maybe they're really into physically paying for your sins."

She placed her index finger on her lip, thinking. "But how did they know I was here?"

He sighed. "I'm calling someone."

"Not the police!"

He waved a hand at her like she was being ridiculous, and got out his cell phone. "I have people."

"You have people?" she repeated incredulously. "Like some Italian mobster? Are your friends with some Don Corleone?"

Damon ignored her and proceeded to make the phone call, all the while, keeping his eye on the box. "Don," he said into the receiver. Elena smirked. "I have a situation that needs to be dealt with right away."

Damon proceeded to give Don details on directions and hung up. "He'll be here in a few hours."

"Is his name really Don?"

"No," his lip quirked up. "It's Jason and he was very confused."

Elena chuckled lightly and made to lift the lid of the box. Damon slapped her hand away. "What are you doing?"

"Killing the spider. I can't think straight until it's dead."

"But what if it jumps at you?"

"I don't think the Brown Recluse can jump, but you brought up a good point."

She went over to her purse sitting on the couch and dug through it, pulling out a travel size bottle of hairspray and a magazine she got for the plane. "Ah ha!" she shouted, holding up her weapons.

Damon looked at her incredulously. "You're going to kill the spider with hair spray and an US Weekly?"

"Think People Magazine would be a better weapon?" she mocked, walking over to open the box, Damon took a huge step back.

Elena turned toward him, taking in his stance and look of revulsion. "You're afraid of spiders."

"I don't like things I can't control and you can't control what you can't see," he defended.

"Who knew that the guy with magic fingers that can MacGyver his way into apartments would be afraid of spiders?"

Damon's brows rose in surprise, a smile growing on his face. "Magic fingers?"

"Magical fingers," she confirmed, and then whipped open the box and proceeded to spray every surface with hair spray. "Where's the spider?"

Shit.

"Where's the spider?" she repeated. Elena moved the flowers with the tip of the rolled-up magazine and didn't see it. "Maybe there wasn't a spider and I was seeing things."

"There was a spider, I saw it," Damon replied, staying where he was, away from the box.

She leaned over the box, her hair falling over her shoulder as she bent forward, inspecting the flowers. "Maybe it crawled in one of the flowers."

"Did you check the lid?" Damon asked, from afar.

Elena tilted her head to glare at Damon, who seemed to have taken several steps back since the spider went missing. "Seriously?"

"Don't look at me like that!" he yelled.

"You'd better pray this spider kills me because after I'm done killing it, I'm coming after you!" she shouted, pointing the rolled up magazine at him.

Damon's eyes widened and his face paled. "Elena!"

He ran over and using his hand slapped her hair.

What in the hell was he doing? She hit him with the magazine, trying to get him out of her way. "Are you insane?"

"It's in your hair!"

"Fuck!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. "Get it out! Get it out!"

Elena flipped her hair over and started dancing in place, dropping the hairspray on the ground.

"I'm trying! Stop moving around."

Elena was hitting herself, hoping to squash the spider or get it off of her, while Damon tried looking for where it went. Damon took the magazine from her hand and hit her hard across the back.

"Got it," he said, inspecting the remnants of the spider left on the magazine. Elena lifted her head, softly trying to brush her hair with her fingers as if she didn't have a complete meltdown over a poisonous spider.

"Thank you," she replied, slipping her leather jacket off of her shoulders and walking to the open kitchen to wipe spider guts off the back.

Damon's eyes went to her wrists, which were exposed with just her short sleeved V-neck white shirt on. They were like white cuffs around her wrists, holding her in an invisible prison only he could understand. "The card is a lie, you know that right?"

Elena continued to keep her eyes on the jacket and her mind on cleaning it. "What?"

"Just because you tried to end your life, doesn't mean you're doomed to be punished for it," he replied.

"I know bad things happen to me," she muttered, eyes on the slate gray creases in the leather. "I know I'm like a death magnet and I am doomed to be alone, but that's my burden to bare and no one else's."

Damon's eyes narrowed. "Your aunt died, your mom died, and I don't know what else has happened to you, but it doesn't mean you're destined to be miserable. It doesn't have to be that way."

Elena put the jacket down and leaned against the kitchen counter with both hands. She looked frustrated and tired, but also resigned to her fate, so unlike the girl days earlier, but still on the brink. "When my mom died, it wrecked my family. My dad drowned himself in guilt, never left the office or the hospital, leaving me to raise my little brother. He lost the love of his life and it severed his heart, the moment we buried my mom, it was like half of him was buried with her. One day, I came home and he was in his room, which wasn't unusual at four in the afternoon. I started making dinner and when it was ready, I went upstairs to get him. He didn't answer his door and it was locked, so I knocked, then I banged, and then I fell to the floor and cried because I knew what he did. He took a lethal combination of drugs that only a doctor could get or know how to combine and left a file folder for me with all his information, bank records, savings, he even had the deed to the house put in my name for when I came of age. No note, just his life in a manila folder with a patient's name crossed out on the tab."

Damon tried to walk over, but she stopped him by putting her palms up. "I know what suicide does and the fact is, I'd never consider it if it meant I'd leave someone in the position I was in, but I don't have anyone Damon. No one would care if I was gone because I have no one left. Even you'll leave when you realize you won't be able to save me as a way to redeem yourself for what happened to your wife."

"What happened to your brother?"

She was shocked by his request, mainly because he didn't try to reassure her like he always seemed to do. "I'm not talking about this."

"He's the reason you go to group, isn't he? It's not because of your dad, it's because of him. Jeremy, is it?" He was pressing and it was annoying as hell. Trying to get her to open up like he was fucking Oprah or something.

Something in her eyes seemed to confirm his suspicions. "I'm not a puzzle for you to figure out, just forget it, Damon."

"Why did you tell me about your dad?"

She sighed. "I thought you'd leave me alone."

"No you didn't," he explained. "You did it because you want to talk about it and you want to open up to me, but you're too scared."

"If I wanted to talk, I'd see a professional, not you."

"Do you want me to take you to one? I'll sit in the waiting room, even pay for it."

She fisted her jacket and started to walk away. "How many times do I have to tell you? I am not a charity case! I am not your wife and I don't need to be saved. I don't want it."

She didn't go to the front door like Damon might have expected, she went to her bedroom and shut the door behind her, locking it. Elena thought he might go after her and demand she talk or leave the door open, but he didn't.

She fell asleep after a long shower, not bothering to change her bandages. She peaked outside the bedroom door to see where Damon was, but he seemed to have left. The box was noticeably missing. She went back to her room and laid in bed. It was only nine in the evening and she wasn't tired. She always fell asleep at the oddest hours and at increments of time. Two hours there, three hours here. For a while, she had thought that she was like her father because he too was one of those rare people that could function without sleep. Even when she was eight and slept over at Caroline's house, she was always the kid that could stay up all night, sometimes snuck out and played basketball with Tyler in his backyard. Elena kicked ass at games like horse and poison. Even as a teenager, she'd go for long runs at night. The thing about nighttime is, you lose track of time. One hour can feel like 12 hours of daylight, and yet, one hour could feel like a second and before you know it, the sky is purpling and the sun is coming up.

Her life was like those moments between the sun setting and the darkness blanketing the earth. It was at one point good and sunny and all that cheesy stereotypical nuclear family bullshit, and now it was never ending purple darkness, full of wandering thoughts and drunken distraction. She was alone, but her never ending churning mind made sure she never forgot why she was alone.

She heard the door open and close but didn't bother going out, instead the door to her bedroom flew open and Damon unceremoniously plopped on her bed right next to her. He rested his hands behind his head and turned towards her. Elena tried to pretend to be asleep, but he wasn't buying it. "Don't you want to know what I found out about your very biblical stalkers?"

Her eyes flew open so fast, it was almost comical. "What?"

"The package came from D.C. but had no postage or markings. According to the courier service they used, the package was picked up from a Starbucks in Dupont Circle."

"Who paid? They'd have to have some sort of receipt or name as a guarantee that the package was delivered."

"It was paid with a prepaid Visa. There are a couple more purchases made on the card, a magazine at a newsstand at the Delta terminal in SFO and dinner at a French restaurant in Dupont Circle."

Elena folded her pillow so she could turn to look at Damon. "I don't know anyone in D.C."

"We'll check out the Starbucks and this French restaurant when we go to D.C."

"I never said I'd go with you," she reminded him.

"But now you kinda want to, right?"

"Shut up," she said in confirmation of what he was saying. Yes, she wanted to know who was sending her flowers with creepy notes, but she wasn't too worried. "I think they're just trying to scare me."

Damon's brows furrowed. "Is it working?"

"No," she replied, honestly. "It's nice of you to look into it, but I don't really need you to."

"They sent you a poisonous spider," he stated. "And a creepy note."

"But they haven't threatened to do anything, so I think they just wanted to make their point, which they did."

Damon shook his head and stared at the ceiling. "You have absolutely no instincts of self-preservation."

"And this surprises you?"

"I wish it did," he said softly, turning to look at her profile.

She turned towards him, so they were face to face. "Didn't you have a lack of self-preservation after your wife died?" she asked, not in a mean way, but genuinely curious.

"You ran into a McDonalds' drive-through menu," he reminded her. "I got drunk and drove my Camaro into Lake Cascade because I was getting a map out of the glove compartment and saw two pairs of sunglasses, my son's little red ones and my wife's."

"The Mickey Mouse keyring…"

Damon nodded. "When Daniel would get fussy, he liked playing with my keys. I'd be in line at the bank and he'd start to cry because it was past his nap time, I'd just give him the keys and he'd look at the light bouncing off of the ears and loved the sound it made when the keys would jiggle. He'd go from being on the verge of a mental breakdown to giggling."

Elena sighed, looking into Damon's grey-blue eyes, trying to figure out if he was being genuine or was manipulating her in some way. His eyes searched hers, they were glassy and tired and she knew, she knew he didn't like divulging that piece of information any more than she did. "Jeremy liked to sketch. He'd sketch really weird things like trees with knotted and twisting branches and monsters. He was so weird and dark…"

"The framed sketch in your apartment of the tree on the edge of a cliff is his," he concluded.

"When we were kids my parents would take us to Carmel. We'd stay in this little beach house and Jenna would come and stay with us for part of the week while she was on school break. She'd make boysenberry jam with my mom while my dad would take me and Jeremy on hikes or drag us through 18 rounds at Pebble Beach. The tree he drew was a tree we could see when my dad would take us on a hike up the hills near the beach. He kept drawing the same tree over and over until I realized he was drawing that tree. He was four when we last visited Carmel."

Damon's hand grazed hers, threading her long elegant fingers with his. They stayed like that, lying side by side, face to face. Her dark brown eyes wet with an effort of trying to hold back emotion.

"You should take Alaric and his kids there. He'd probably like it."

Elena turned to face the ceiling, letting go of his hand. "I'd rather keep my pain inside until it implodes than hurt anyone else."

"Have you ever thought that your absence in their lives is what's painful?"

She shook her head, her chin trembling. "I'm tired, Damon," she muttered, turning so she was facing the opposing wall.

Damon stayed until she fell asleep, she could feel him shift, feel the warmth of his body next to hers. She wasn't able to sleep long., and was up at two in the morning with Damon lying still beside her, wearing drawstring pants and no shirt, but still facing her. She took her time to gaze at his profile under the moonlight, the way his lips almost pouted when he slept, the dusting of stubble along his jaw, the way his dark brows furrowed, the slight bump in his nose, the way his hair fell across his brow as he slept. He was beautiful and haunting and annoying because he wouldn't leave her alone, even in her sleep.

She needed air. She needed to get out. Elena quietly got out of bed and put on running clothes. Once her laces were tied, she put the hotel key in her back pocket and made her way down to the lobby.

She found herself running her old route and was at a nice clip until she past Alaric's house. She stopped to look at it, framed in the nightlight. No one was awake and she found herself standing outside it for a few minutes before she heard crying and a light turn on in an upstairs room. Alaric's shadow held a crying Meredith in his arms, his hand patting her back, trying to sooth her. He paced in front of the window, the curtains still drawn. Elena watched him calm his daughter down, the girl that just lost her mother. Elena was too old to be held like that when her mom died, and her dad was too sad to know how to comfort anyone else, but she knew that Meredith's life would be changed forever and that part of her would be fractured and she'd spend her entire life mending that fracture or trying to figure out how to put that piece of her back together.

When the lights went out, Elena started running again, except towards the high school. When she reached the fences around the school, she hopped the fence and ran across the field to the gym entrance. They usually left the gym open, not on purpose, but because they forget to lock it after athletes stay late and use it to work out. She hoped that it would be unlocked, if not, she wasn't opposed to breaking a few laws to get in. It wouldn't be the first time she broke into the school and after being there all afternoon, she knew things hadn't changed since she'd been there.

She tugged at the doors, but they were locked, and then walked around the gym looking for an open window and found one towards the back that she'd have to climb to get to. Using the exposed bricks as support, she hoisted herself up through the window, landed on a desk and hopped onto the tiled floor. It was one of the coaches offices. She opened the door and continued to walk through the gym to the classroom where she and Damon left all the supplies. She took out the glue gun she bought, plugged it in, and laid out the rest of her supplies.

After three hours of working, she'd turned a wooden crown on a stick into a golden flower crown, with purple, pink and red roses and a satin ribbon bow, perfect for any dress up party. She'd used fabric she found in Mrs. Bixby's closet to sew two black capes with the letters M&J intertwined on the back, on top of a yellow Batman symbol. Elena couldn't sew normal clothing to save her life, but after a day of making quilts with Caroline for the local children's hospital when she was in high school, she could cut fabric and put it together with a good sewing machine and luckily, or unlucky, considering the elective still exists, Mrs. Bixby still taught home ec. and still kept the sewing machines and plenty of fabric in her unlocked closet, along with a bottle of scotch hidden behind boxes of buttons, Elena was tempted to steal.

By the time Elena was done and had cleaned up her mess, she folded the capes, wrapped them in left-over silk ribbon and placed them in an empty bag with the crown. She turned out the light and went back to the coach's office, but it was locked. Dammit. Of course, it was locked from the outside. At the moment she couldn't remember how she got out after all those times breaking in, it could've been because, in high school, she arrived sober and left not so sober.

She walked throughout the gym until she found a very small open window in the basement weight room. She'd have to climb on top of a bench to get out the window but knew she could fit. Once she was on top of the bench, she threw out her the bag with gifts in them and hoisted herself up over the windowsill and was halfway out the window when a flashlight shown in her face.

"Elena?" the sheriff asked, surprised.

Shit. Elena's legs were still dangling out the window and she was tempted to jump back into the weight room. Just as Elena was about to jump back out of the window, Liz Forbes grabbed her forearms and helped her out.

"I got a call from Carl saying there was a break in and noise coming from the school," Liz said, eying Elena's bandages, crap. "Never in a million years would I have thought it'd be you."

Elena didn't exactly leave on good terms with the town. She'd pretty much offended most of the citizens and the ones that she didn't offend, either loved her parents too much to ever hate Elena or didn't know who she was. Liz Forbes definitely knew who she was and though she loved her parents, was evidently still mad at Elena for leaving the way that she did.

Elena went for the bag lying on the ground but it was too late, Liz got there first. "Stealing iPads and alcohol?"

"That was one time and I gave it back," Elena replied, indignantly.

"You were going to sell them," Liz retorted.

Elena stood up and pointed her finger at Liz. "No one was ever able to prove that!"

Liz opened the bag, saw the items Elena made, and sighed, her voice softening. "For Meredith and Jack?"

Liz was Caroline's mom, was there the day Elena was born and was the one to deliver the news that her mom had died. She was there when the paramedics removed her father's body and offered to take care of her, instead, Jenna took a break from school to take care of her and Jeremy.

"Yeah," she replied, taking the bag back.

Liz's eyes darted back to Elena's exposed bandages. "Do you want to talk?"

Elena shook her head and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Please don't tell anyone."

"Elena, does Ric know? You weren't at the funeral, we all assumed…"

"No, but he's been through enough. Please don't say anything and I'm sorry about breaking into the school. I just wanted to invite Jack and Meredith to the fair on Friday."

"This town loves you," she started, but Elena interrupted.

"They love my family, not me and I'm not saying that because I feel sorry for myself. I get it. I did things that I can't take back, but I'm leaving soon and I'm never coming back. I'm here to say goodbye," Elena stated.

Seeing the hardness in Elena's expression, Liz's eyes started to water. "Your mom was one of my best friends," she argued. "I can't stand seeing you like this."

Elena took the bag from Liz's hands. "Which is why I'm going, so you don't have to see me at all and be reminded of her." Elena started to walk away but turned to face her again. "Please don't say anything. I know you don't owe me that, but I really don't want anyone to worry."

With the bag of gifts in hand, Elena sprinted back to Ric's house and left the items carefully on the porch with a note attached, inviting him and his kids to the fair. She wasn't sure if he was going to throw out the items or go, but she knew she had to try because as much as she hated to admit it, she didn't want him or his kids to think she didn't love them or that they were alone in their pain, because she loved Jenna too, so much it was painful to acknowledge. She didn't know where she'd be in the next week or even twenty-four hours, but in that moment, what she did felt right.

She walked to a local coffee shop and got Damon a double Americano and a latte for herself. When she entered the hotel room, she heard him on the phone with his back to her. He was so busy yelling into the receiver that he didn't notice her walking into the kitchen. "I don't know where she is, but find her. She's been gone for four hours. Check airports, bus stations, fucking bike rentals, just check everywhere."

"How 'bout right here?" she muttered, taking a sip of her coffee.

Damon spun around, not amused. "She's here Jason," he yelled and hung up.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he yelled, striding towards her.

"Cool down alpha male, I'm allowed to go for a run," she replied, holding up his coffee as a sort of peace offering. "Got you a coffee."

"Dammit, Elena," he yelled. "I woke up and you weren't there. You didn't take your phone or leave a note…"

Elena placed the coffee on the counter. "Stop acting like we're in a relationship and I'm responsible for telling you where I am."

Damon's hands dropped to his side, a little defeated. "We're not?"

Elena rolled her eyes. "No!" she yelled. "God, we aren't even friends."

"We're not?" He repeated.

"Other than your wife, have you ever been in a relationship?"

"Have you?"

Elena bit her lip, both guilty and irritated because he was right.

Damon continued. "You brought me coffee and you knew my order. You let me go down on you..."

"Not happening ever again."

He ignored her. "We're on a trip together, have had breakfast together more days in the past couple months than not, and you open up to me."

Ugh! He was so frustrating, constantly trying to steamroll his way into her life. The way he was standing in his drawstring pants that hung low, showing off the V everyone talked about but she'd rarely witnessed or appreciated. It was exasperating, how he could stand there making demands and conclusions about her, shirtless and looking like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad for sleepwear. It was all extremely aggravating and she'd already had a shit of a morning. "But I didn't want any of it! Do you understand that? I didn't want any of this shit. I don't want a relationship and I certainly don't want anyone wondering where I am at three in the morning."

Damon strode towards her, his muscles flexing as he walked. "You. Care. About. Me."

Elena backed away. "No. You're annoying and you won't leave me alone and you're annoying."

Damon kept walking towards her until she was backed up against the wall and completely trapped between his arms. "Right now, your heart is racing, your cheeks are flushed, and you just pressed your thighs together."

Elena smirked, trying to deflect. "I just got back from a run."

His eyebrows rose, disbelieving. "Is that where you were?"

"It's none of your concern."

He leaned down, gazing at her lips. "You are my concern."

She eyed his mouth, the way he wet his lips, the stubble on his jaw. "No," she said quietly.

His mouth quirked up, his hand moving from the wall to trail a path down Elena's arm, causing her to shutter. "No?"

She swallowed and licked her lips.

 _Knock. Knock. Knock._ "Damon?"

Elena let out a sigh of relief. Damon cursed and pointed his index finger at Elena. "We're not done here," then he slapped her butt before he left towards the bedroom. "Get the door, will you? I have to put on a shirt. It's just Jason."

It was official, Damon was driving her crazy and she was pretty certain they'd end up killing each other before either of them were able to leave Virginia Beach.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Hi everyone! So, in the last chapter, Elena slowly started trying to live, again. She is far from being well or overcoming what she's been through, but she's moving in a positive direction. Someone is after her, and Elena is choosing to ignore it because she doesn't understand why anyone would bother with her, which is why she so easily brushes off what's going on. Other than just being inspired by personal events, this story is very much my human version of no humanity Elena and I think you'll really see that reflected in this chapter. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think. -Jackie-

Chapter 8

"Anna White and Sophie Phillips," Jason said. "They were two of the nurses assigned to you the day you received the flowers."

They were sitting on a couch in the hotel living room. Damon sat bent over with his elbows at his knees, his hands pensively steepled. Jason, sitting in a chair adjacent to her, was a tall broad man with dark hair and warm brown eyes. He was about a half foot taller than Damon and was a former Navy Seal. According to Damon, Jason was in charge of security for all of Damon's bars and they'd known each other since high school. Elena was dying to find the right time to ask Jason some questions about what Damon was like in high school, but decided that moment wasn't the right time.

"You think it was one of the nurses?" Elena asked.

Jason nodded. "It had to be someone who knew your medical history, had access to your files and had access to your room."

"But that could be any nurse, doctor, even another patient or family member of a patient who happened to drop by my room or eavesdrop on a conversation," Elena replied. "It doesn't mean it was someone assigned to me. Plus, the flowers were dropped off at the front desk, not left in my room."

"Except it wasn't random," he explained. "It was someone who was there while you were in the coma, who knew you and took an interest in you."

Elena thought about it. It couldn't be Sophie, she was kind to her and listened, even brought her clothes, but she did bring her the flowers. There had to be another reason he singled out these two girls.

"What aren't you telling me," she demanded.

Jason looked at Damon, who nodded.

"What the fuck aren't you telling me?"

Jason turned to look at her. "Both girls haven't been to work in the past week."

Elena's brow furrowed. "What else?"

Jason turned to look at Damon again, angering Elena.

"Stop looking at him!" she shouted. "What aren't you telling _me_?"

"They're both licensed to carry," he said.

"Great," Elena muttered with a roll of her eyes. "Gun-toting Jesus freaks is just what I need in my life."

Jason actually chuckled. "I like her," he said to Damon, who didn't seem amused by Elena's reaction. "She isn't scared of shit."

"Her lack of self-preservation's one of her many quirks," Damon replied dryly.

Elena glared at Damon, her eyes flitting behind him. "Watch out Damon, there's a spider behind you."

Damon's head twitched in the direction Elena was looking before he realized she was teasing him, causing her to snort and Damon to look at Jason as if to say, _do you see what I've been dealing with?_

Jason ignored both of them, muttering something about them acting like twelve-year-olds before he handed Elena an iPad and said, "I want you to look through both Facebook accounts and tell me if you see anything that looks familiar. A customer at the bar, one of your friends…"

Damon laughed at that. "She'd have to actually interact with people to have friends."

Clearly, he was still upset about the spider prank Elena just pulled. Elena glared at him.

Jason didn't acknowledge his comment and continued. "Anyone you think she may be working with."

"You think she's not working alone?"

Jason nodded. "With what she was able to accomplish, she'd need someone else, there usually is in cases like these."

Elena looked down at the iPad. "Brings a whole new meaning to Facebook stalking," Elena said, scrolling through Sophie's Facebook profile.

She sat back and started looking for clues. Sophie had pictures from her days at Stanford with various friends at parties and celebrating her graduation from nursing school. "Sophie has pictures of her studying in a Bible group and some disturbing shots of her in hunting gear, but nothing looks familiar. Honestly, she was really nice to me at the hospital, I have a hard time believing she was faking it."

"Bible study?" Damon asked.

Elena zoomed in on the picture and handed the iPad to Damon. He squinted at the screen. "Why does this look like a scene from a horror movie?"

Elena took the iPad back. "They're sitting in a circle praying."

"Praying for the ghost of Jesus past," he mumbled.

Elena ignored him. "I still don't think it's Sophie."

Jason took the iPad out of Elena's hands and opened up Anna's page. "I really need you to look and see if you notice anything familiar. You two could've crossed paths and maybe inadvertently made an enemy."

"I don't really interact with people," Elena mumbled.

"Maybe you interacted with her boyfriend," Damon chimed in.

Elena scoffed and threw him a dirty look, but even she had to admit he had a point. "It takes two to tango, I don't get the point of taking out her anger on me."

Damon chuckled while Elena scrolled through Anna's photos, taking more time to zoom in on pictures of Anna with guys. There was one where Anna was with a friend with bright red hair, braided into pigtails at a bar Elena had frequented a few times. She recognized the leather barstools and the vintage prints on the walls. A guy standing behind the red head was jokingly tugging her pigtails, he was tall and had pale blond hair and was wearing a shirt that said Sochi 2014 with the Olympic rings. The guy next to him, equally tall with blond hair, almost looked like his twin wore the same shirt.

Elena flipped to the next photo, it was a picture of Anna at the biathlon event, wearing an Olympic jersey. "She's an Olympian."

"What?" Damon and Jason said together.

Elena nodded. "At least we know why she has a license to shoot, she competes in the biathlon."

Elena shut the iPad off and handed it back to Jason. "I don't think it's either of them and to be honest, I don't want either of you worrying about this anymore."

Damon rolled his eyes while Jason spoke up. "Someone is clearly after you."

"But they haven't threatened to do anything. I tried to explain this to Damon yesterday, they're just trying to scare me. There's no point digging into this any further. I really don't think there's anything to worry about."

Jason put his iPad back in his bag and looked at Damon. "I'll let you know if I find anything else," he said, then he turned to Elena. "Be careful. Be aware of your surroundings and if you remember any more details, call me."

"Thank you," she replied.

Jason nodded and left.

Elena got up because Damon was sitting in the armchair and looking at her like he wanted nothing more than to finish what he started earlier and as much as she'd love for him to scratch her itch, she swore she wouldn't let him touch her again and she wasn't going to break that promise. It was just too complicated and her life was the very definition of fucked up and complicated.

"I'm taking a shower," she announced, walking toward the bathroom.

"I'll help you," Damon suggested, following her.

"I'm capable of taking one by myself, thanks," she said, walking into the bathroom and realizing the door was still broken.

"Doesn't lock," Damon commented from right behind her. He placed his hands on her hips, which felt really good, so she elbowed him.

"Get off of me," she yelled, turning around and pressing her hands against his biceps to push him out of the bathroom.

Damon laughed as he turned around and walked out.

"You're late," Caroline accused, standing in the middle of the gym, wearing a navy blue pantsuit and a cream lace camisole tucked into her slacks, her hair curled so perfectly, it'd survive a category five storm.

"I'm sorry, did I just arrive at Fox News studios? Is the government getting ready to take away your gun, Caroline?" Elena asked, dripping with sarcasm.

Caroline's eyes narrowed. "You're late and it shows how unreliable you are. I should've never asked you to help out with this."

Elena pointed to the clock on the gym wall. "It's 1:05," she said. "We'd have been on time if the front doors that were open yesterday, were open today."

Caroline's eyes flitted to the floor and she slightly bit her lip before looking back up at Elena with renewed anger. "Just don't let it happen again, the kids should be here soon."

Damon sidled up next to her. "What did I miss?"

"Just Caroline being Caroline," Elena commented, knowing Caroline was still in earshot. "Did you call your ice cream truck guy?"

Damon nodded. "They'll be here at 3:00, _boss_."

Elena reflexively smacked him across the shoulder. "Don't call me boss like that."

"Sweetheart, how would you like me to call you boss?"

She smacked him again. "Stop."

"Ooohhhh ohhhh," squealed Sabrina. "They're fighting like Ross and Rachel."

Elena regarded Sabrina with renewed respect. "Friends?"

Sabrina nodded, her braids dancing as she moved her head. "Netflix."

Hazel ran up to them. "Oh my God, Damon's her lobster."

Owen arrived. "Totally."

Sabrina turned to Owen. "What season are you on?"

"Season 4."

"Wait until you get to season…"

Sabrina screamed and put her hands over her ears. "No spoilers!"

"I didn't say anything!" he yelled, looking ready to kick her.

She shook her head and sang _la la la_ at the top of her lungs.

Elena and Damon who'd been watching the interaction with amusement, nodded at each other to signal that it was time to break the fight up. Elena grabbed Sabrina's hands and pried them off her ears and Damon distracted Owen by having him hold up the Beauty and the Beast sign for their group while they waited for the rest of their group to arrive. When they had successfully distracted the kids, they were about to high five, when the rest of the kids arrived.

Amy ran up to Elena and hugged her around the legs. With her hands in the air, unsure what to do, she looked at Damon who just smiled. Smug bastard.

" 'lena!" she yelled. "I missed you."

Elena awkwardly patted Amy's head. "It's been less than 24 hours, kid."

"Are we going to make the flower crowns today?"

Elena gently took Amy's hands off of her legs so she could crouch down to her height. "Yes, but you have to promise me that you'll be careful with the hot glue gun."

Her eyes grew with excitement. "You're going to let me use a hot glue gun?"

Elena nodded. "If you can promise me you'll be careful."

Amy stuck out her hand. "I promise."

"Well, okay then," Elena said, shaking her hand.

The group headed to the empty classroom. Elena assigned a couple of kids to work on art for the fliers Elena would have to scan, edit and copy later on that day. Damon helped kids out in the hall near an exit so he could prop the doors open when his group spray painted the wooden crowns on long pieces of butcher paper.

Elena took care of the group of kids getting ready to use the hot glue gun. "It's important that you're careful when you hot glue. Everything has to be out and ready before you start gluing, otherwise, the glue will dry. Hot glue hurts like a bitch, so do not mess with the metal nozzle or touch the glue, no matter how cool it looks when you squeeze the trigger."

"Elena!" a shrill voice said behind her. "You can't use that word in front of kids."

Elena simply turned around. "They need to understand how badly hot glue hurts. If I said _it's going to be painful_ , it doesn't have the same impact as _it's going to hurt like a bitch_. I'm more worried about their little fingers getting blistered because they thought it would be cool to dip one in the glue, then hearing a word they've probably heard before countless times."

"You're supposed to be a role model," Caroline hissed. "Role models don't swear."

Elena cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't sign up to be anyone's role model.

Caroline attempted to regain composure by smiling in a sickeningly sweet fashion at the kids who were starting to watch the exchange with rapt attention. "Just don't do it again," she replied, turning the doorknob to leave.

"Okay," Elena said once Caroline had left. "Let's get started on the crowns."

Owen was the only one that burned himself on the glue gun, which Elena felt was a sort of accomplishment. She had him run his hand under cold water and luckily, Owen seemed to take the burn as a sort of battle wound. They'd already made a hundred crowns and masks and the fliers were ready to be taken to the copier.

Each crown was unique to the person who made it. Some looked amazing, and some looked very homemade, which Elena liked because it displayed the personality of each person in her group. Hazel liked putting some of the paper black flowers on hers and painted them silver. Owen started making wands out of leather rope and chopsticks painted with a dark brown wood paint. By the end of the day, all the kids had paint and glitter all over their arms and clothes, which was fine because they all came in smocks.

Elena was in the gym, saying goodbye to all the kids when Amy ran up and gave her another hug. "I had so much fun today."

Again, Elena froze until Amy let go and ran toward one of the vans that took the kids back to camp. Damon chuckled.

"What are you laughing at?" Elena asked her hands on her hips.

"You have paint all over your butt. I like it, though."

"Shit!" she took off the flannel she was wearing and wrapped it around her waist to cover up the massive handprints in varying shades of gold and pink.

Caroline walked over to her, eying her wrists, she must've watched the whole interaction with Amy. Elena had surprisingly forgotten about the bandages on her wrists and the reason she wore a flannel shirt. Avoiding Caroline's judgmental gaze and ran out of the gym and made it to the hallway before she heard Caroline calling out after her.

"It's my mistake," Caroline yelled. Elena paused and spun around. "I should've never invited you here to be with these kids."

The hallway was empty and cold. The only light illuminating them was from the classroom where she and her group worked, and a faint light from the setting sun. Elena was tired. Tired of hiding and tired of trying to be something she wasn't. She tried to forget. Tried to delve into work that was beyond herself, but it didn't work because in the end, she'd be the girl that tried to kill herself and the girl that leaves destruction in her wake.

"You're right," Elena replied.

"You're unstable," she stated, pointing at her wrists. "I should've never allowed a swearing arsonist to be around children, I don't know what I expected."

"You wanted the compliant cheerleader you could boss around," Elena replied. "But what you didn't know, is that the reason I didn't speak up was because it was easier to do what you said than deal with one of your passive aggressive outbursts."

"If you felt this way, then why agree?"

"I wanted the free hotel room upgrade, but I quit. I'll find another place to stay."

Caroline rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Of course you quit. You're so irresponsible."

"Irresponsible? Weren't you the one kicking me out?"

"You left, Elena!" She yelled. "You burned down your house with your brother in it! Didn't go to the funeral and most of the town thought you'd been in lock-up for the past five years. When I saw you in the lobby, I thought you were doing better, and maybe this would be a good way for us to reconnect, but you have no intention of staying, do you? Because that's what you do, you leave. When things get too tough for Elena Gilbert, she runs and leaves everyone else to deal with the fallout. Jenna was forced to deal with everything on her own and it killed her."

Elena shook her head, not wanting to hear it. "Shut the fuck up, Caroline. You don't know what you're talking about."

Caroline yelled in frustration, her perfectly curled hair becoming more frazzled. "You don't talk to anyone! You just dropped off the face of the Earth. I was your best friend, and I haven't heard from you in years."

Elena let out a laugh. "You were never my best friend, you were barely a friend."

"Don't do this, Elena."

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? Invite me here and upgrade my room so you could feel better about yourself. Perfect Caroline and her perfect reputation. You were waiting for me to fail so you could have the satisfaction of kicking me out. Yell at me for swearing. Yell at me for not following your list to the t. Well, as I said, I quit. Good luck with the fair." Caroline's face paled and Elena could see her eyes welling up. "Don't cry, Caroline, you'll ruin your mascara."

Caroline shook her head, biting her lip and left. Damon walked out of the gym. "That was not the cat fight I was hoping for."

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough," he said.

Elena glanced at him, framed in the doorway, so tall, so powerful, so willing to absorb any pain she was in. She knew it the moment Damon put his hands on her in the plane and the look of devastation when she realized Ric didn't want to see her. Desperate to help her forget, and yet forcing her to wake up and move every day. He was infuriating, arrogant and controlling, but he was the only one that had listened, that held her, that didn't judge.

She walked into the classroom and started unplugging the glue guns and throwing away scraps of ribbon and paper that had fallen on the floor.

"Arsonist?" Damon asked, following her into the classroom. "That's kinda hot."

Elena couldn't help but crack a half-hearted smile. "Clever," she said, picking up a long piece of gold satin ribbon that had fallen on the floor and ran it through her fingers, twisting the ribbon around her index finger like a ring.

Damon sat at the desk, his favorite spot, and propped up his feet. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She bit her lip and turned toward him, but didn't look at him. "Tennessee Williams said that we are all sentenced to solitary confinement inside our own skins for life."

"Morbid."

"Yeah, well…," she trailed off, looping the ribbon around her thumb, tying it in knots and untying it again. "You know about my mom, my dad, and my aunt, but you don't know about Jeremy. You see, my mom's death created a domino effect. My dad was in pain and couldn't take it, so he ended his life. My brother couldn't deal with it either. Jenna and I knew this, so we made him talk to a therapist twice a week for a year. I went with him a couple of times and he seemed to be dealing with things better, in a more healthy way. But even then I knew I was ignoring the real problem. I knew it was something deeper, but if Jeremy had a problem, I couldn't leave when I went to college. He poured his soul into drawing, and I forced myself to believe that was a good sign. What I didn't realize was that he was hanging with the wrong crowd."

"What kind of crowd?" Damon inquired.

"Emo teens who were into drugs, hanging out at graveyards, ditching class and not bathing," she answered. "They were the ones that got him a gun. They thought it was poetic, that because his dad committed suicide, he should too. I should've seen it. I was supposed to take care of him, and I thought he was okay, but I missed the signs. I ignored them, hoping he was going through some rebellious teenager stage."

"You were young, Elena. You already had to take on the death of both parents, helping raise your younger brother couldn't have been easy for you. You needed time. Time to grieve."

She looped the gold ribbon around her fingers, knotting it, looping it and knotting it again, like she'd have done if she was in elementary school, tying multiple bows with a single strand of ribbon. Loop, tie, pull. Loop, tie, pull. Over and over and over until the cheap ribbon frayed and broke in half, the pieces cascading to the floor like feathers falling from a bird. Twisting and turning on it's way down.

"When you come into this world, you love the mom that cradles you so tenderly in her arms. The dad that makes corny jokes and teaches you to ride a bike. The brother that gets you the worst possible gift for your birthday, but you can tell that it came from a place of sincere adoration. What you don't know, is that it can be ripped from you. Not necessarily all at once, but in pieces, until you are so worn down with loneliness and despair you don't realize that your a shell of the person you used to be, detached from human existence."

Damon's sat across from her, so still, so worried she'd dart out of the room or break before she needed to say what she needed to say. Her hair in a messy ponytail, hair draped in her face, not a stitch of makeup, and covered in paint, she was hauntingly beautiful as she sat there, iridescent under the fluorescent lighting.

"I came home from school early because Jeremy ditched again. I'd already planned on moving once I graduated, and Jenna was going to stay with Jeremy until he graduated. Jenna was at school in Richmond. I was eighteen and told her I could take care of things. When I entered the house, I knew it like I knew what my father had done. It was like there was a staleness in the air, a dark ominous cloud over our house. I barreled up the stairs and when I opened the door to his room, he had a gun pressed underneath his chin. The moment I stepped into his room to stop him, he pulled the trigger and dropped to the floor. Even in his condition, I still cradled his head and sat with him, letting blood seep into my clothes until the smell hit me and I got angry. I picked up a baseball bat he had propped up against his bedpost and started destroying everything in my path. I couldn't stand to look at anything, couldn't stand to look at the flannel sheets, his drawings, his stupid XBox, pictures of my family before my life became an isolated walk through this earth. Then, I sprayed liquid gas everywhere, lit a match, and watched my childhood home burn to the ground."

"That's…." Damon started to say, but Elena wasn't done. She needed to get this out of her system before it ate her up from the inside.

"Records are sealed, so no one in town knows except Liz Forbes, the sheriff, and Caroline's mom. Liz kept me in her office until the coroner's report came back and it was evident I was innocent in my brother's death. We owned the home, and because of what happened, no one pressed charges. I left for San Francisco the moment I was released and haven't been back."

"The drawing," Damon broke in.

"Jenna had it and sent it to me. I think she was trying to get me to come back."

Damon watched her. She hadn't gone catatonic, or walked out or looked like she wanted to do some damage with scissors that were lying around, but she was hallow. Like she'd repeated this conversation over and over in her head, but not out loud. It was as though it still wasn't real to her. She was in solitary confinement.

"You don't have to be in solitary confinement," he tried to explain. "You're allowed to be angry. What you've been through…"

Elena looked up at him, her eyes raw and skin completely paled. "I put myself in solitary confinement, and I have no intention of breaking out."

"I'm going to help you break out." Damon took out his phone and texted someone when his phone dinged in reply, he read it, grinned and jumped to his feet. "I'm taking you somewhere."

She looked at him, startled and ready to protest, say she was tired.

"I will throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes if you do not come with me."

She held her hands up in surrender. "Where are you taking me?"

"I have a friend who happens to be in town," he said, evasively.

"You aren't taking me to a psychologist, are you?"

Damon scoffed and turned to look at her as they walked down the school hallway. "Not entirely sure a psychologist would approve of what we're doing."

"Are you fucking crazy? This cannot be legal," Elena yelled from the roof of the tallest building in Virginia Beach, the newly built and almost finished Ten-Thousand Hotel.

Damon smirked, putting her in a harness. "It's not."

Parker stood next to Damon, handing him a carabiner attached to a thick wire. "She's not going to rat me out, is she?"

Damon shook his head. "Nah, she's just afraid."

"I am not afraid!"

"Okay, sweetheart," he muttered, securely putting her in the harness and tugging on cables, making sure they were secure. "The body harness is for extra support, but you'll feel the bounce-back from your ankles."

She nodded. She couldn't believe she'd agreed to this. Damon's friend, Parker jumped off buildings for fun all the time, except he usually did it with a small group of friends and according to Damon, always scoped out a location before making the jump. Parker had a wife and child at home in D.C., and told Elena, "If I ever did a jump that got me put away for a long time or killed, his wife wouldn't hesitate to murder him and sleep with her rich defense attorney."

Elena laughed, but she'd never done anything like this before and was baffled that Damon knew someone as badass as Parker. Parker had done the jump Elena was about to do earlier in the day and had already cleaned up and made a run for it when Damon texted and asked if Parker had a jump ready. According to Parker, no one would expect him to do it twice in the same day, at the same location, so this was the best bet, a four hundred foot drop off of a platform used during construction.

"You'll be fine," Damon said. "I'd never put you in danger and Parker is the best at what he does."

"I haven't been caught yet," Parker yelled from where he was anchoring the cables.

She nodded, feeling more than butterflies in her stomach, more like a whole charm of hummingbirds. When she was securely strapped in, Parker did another check of her harness while Damon looked over the ledge. "You're going to be super horny after you jump. You'll want to bone the first person you see. My wife allows me a pass if you want…"

Elena laughed. "I think I'll just be relieved it's over."

"Relieved you're alive?" Parker inquired.

Elena shrugged. "Maybe, I don't know."

"We'll pull you up when you've completed your jump. Do you remember everything we talked about?"

She nodded, going through all the safety precautions in her head.

Parker squeezed her shoulders. "Good."

He walked her to a plank where Damon was standing and where she'd make the jump. She felt weird in the heavy equipment, shackled at the ankles. Before she stepped on the ledge, Damon stepped up to talk to her. "Elena," he said, looking into her eyes. "Let go. Let go of everything. Fuck your past, fuck death, fuck Caroline and everyone else. Just let go and be free."

She nodded. "Fuck everyone," she repeated.

He leaned forward and cupped her face, his thumbs running along her cheeks. "Just, let go."

Elena looked down and bit her lip. Let go. Seemed like an unrealistic and simple solution to her problems, but jumping off of a building seemed equally unrealistic. Still, she stepped out of his embrace and walked on the platform and stood there, suspended over Sandfidler Road, looking out at the Atlantic Ocean. The sun had gone down, and she could see the light of the moon reflect off the water. Thousands of stars dotted the sky like glitter decorating the evening sky. Wind whipped through her hair as she stood over the ledge. It was just her, standing on the precipice. She held up her hand to say that she was read, and could hear Parker counting off.

1…..

Fuck her Dad for giving up and leaving her to deal with responsibilities she was too young to handle.

2….

Fuck Jeremy. Fuck him for leaving her alone the way that he did. For ruining her life. For tainting her image of him and causing his death to be on repeat, constantly haunting her dreams. The gun shot. The explosion. The blood. Fuck suicide.

3….

Let go.

She jumped, flew weightlessly through the air, her arms outstretched as she dove face first. She didn't scream, she smiled as she fell, feeling the weight lift off her shoulders until she hit the bottom of the cable and felt the tension bring her back up and fall again, bouncing through the air. When she hit the tension, she screamed, "Fuck you, death," as she flew back through the air. Blood was pumping through her entire body like liquid adrenaline was running through her veins.

Damon and Parker pulled her back to the top, grabbing her hand as she reached the platform.

"How was it?" Parker asked once she was steady on the roof.

Elena ignored Parker, her eyes found Damon, who was assessing her to see if she was okay. She hurriedly unclipped and took off the ankle harness, and without a second thought, ran up to Damon and jumped him, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him on the lips, roughly coaxing his mouth to open so she could taste him. He held her, gripping her ass as he feverishly kissed her back.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly between kisses. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Tears were in her eyes as she tried to hold him closer around the neck so he could feel her heart beat flush against his chest.

They could hear sirens in the distance, but Elena and Damon ignored it.

"I hate to break this up, but we have to get going," Parker said.

Elena and Damon kept making out, Damon had spun her around and propped her up against the door to the roof.

"Hey, guys. I'm not fucking around. Tricia will kill me if I get arrested."

Elena sucked on Damon's bottom lip, pulled back and bit. Damon groaned when she hopped off him to help Parker clean up. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him, kissing her chastely on the lips. "You're welcome," he said with a smile.

Elena grinned, taking off her body harness, her eyes not leaving Damon's. She wanted him. She couldn't explain it, but in that moment it was as though she realized he was the only person that knew her. That didn't judge her for what she'd done or been through. He didn't frown when she told him about burning down her childhood home, instead he took her here and told her to let go of the pain she was holding on to.

She'd broken out of the prison cell she'd sat in since Jeremy's death and for the first time, she had hope that a better life, a life worth living, was in her future.


End file.
